LIBRARY 

OF  Tin: 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


OF 


Mrs.  SARAH  P.  WALSWORTH. 

Received  October,  1894.        ^ 
Accessions  No.  /TVST^  ,      Class  No.      /«  * 


MODERN   PILGRIMS 


MODERN    PILGRIMS: 


SHOWING 


THE  IMPROVEMENTS  IN  TRAVEL, 


AND   THE 


NEWEST    METHODS    OF   REACHING  THE 


CELESTIAL   CITY. 


Thefe  things  I  write  concerning  them  that  feduce  you. — St.  John. 


BY   GEORGE  WOOD, 
AUTHOR  OF  "PETER  SCHLEMIHL  IN  AMERICA. 


IN    TWO     VOLUMES. 
VOL.   I. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED   BY  PHILLIPS,   SAMPSON  &  CO. 
NEW  YORK :     J.  C.  DERBY. 

1855. 


og  ta  Act  oYc/ngress, 


Entered  according  to*  Act  oTC/ngress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 

PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON    &   CO., 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


Stereotyped  by 
HOBART    &    ROBBINS, 

V&w  England  Tjpe  and  Stereotype  Foundry, 
BOSTON. 


'*& 

REV.  FRANCIS  WAYLAND,  D.D.,  IL.D., 

PRESIDENT    OF    BROWN    UNIVERSITY. 

IN  presenting  to  you  these  volumes,  I  fulfil  the  wish  you 
expressed  to  me  in  April,  1850,  that  I  should  resume  the 
pen  I  had  laid  aside,  after  the  publication,  in  1848,  of 
"Peter  Schlemihl  in  America." 

The  plan  of  my  book  was  suggested  to  me  by  Haw 
thorne's  inimitable  allegory,  "  The  Celestial  Railroad" 
and  for  many  years  I  have  wished  to  produce  this  work. 
But  the  difficulties  attending  its  execution  deterred  me  from 
attempting  it ;  and,  when  commenced,  my  "  Modern  Pil 
grims,"  from  time  to  time,  have  been  mired  for  months  in 
Sloughs  of  Despond. 

Whatever  faults  and  failures  may  be  apparent,  they  will, 
doubtless,  be  differently  estimated  according  to  every  read 
er's  stand-point.  I  rely  not  on  its  detail  for  your  approval, 
or  that  of  the  public ;  but  on  its  general  scope  and  bearings. 

And,  sir,  whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  this  long  labor  of 
mine,  it  gives  me  the  highest  satisfaction  to  acknowledge 
my  obligations  for  the  encouragement  which  you  have  given 
me,  and  for  your  distinguishing  friendship. 

THE   AUTHOR. 
CITY  OF  WASHINGTON,  July  4, 1855. 

I* 


tjaue  t$e*  unlrerstanlre,  t|jat  K 
turote  not  tfjese  tfjingcs  for  Jjatrett,  for  amfoi- 
tion,  for  tteceite,  or  for  t-rroure  :  neither  a 
bricfreo"  liesire,  nor  ttje  arrogancie  of  a  letotte 
mintie,  IjatJ)  mouetJ  me  to  torite  t§is  :  imt  tjje 
cause  of  all  men,  moste  iuste  ant(  righteous, 
because  K  sec  man»  toate  prouUe  in  ^u= 
inane  learning  anU  fenotoletise,  tijat  therefore 


tfjejj  Uo  ttespise  antr  lotfje  ttje  Sacretr  anti  ^Tanontcall 
tures  of  tt)e  ?4oli£  (Kfjoste,  as  riiO^  anH  rusticall,  because 
Sane  no  ornamcntcs  of  iDorties,  force  of  siliogismcs,  antt  affects 
ate  perstoastons,  nor  tlje  straunge  Uoctrine  of  tfje  ^fjilosopljers  : 
but  are  sira^lj)  grounHeti  bpon  tlje  operation  of  17ertue,  anU 
bare  JFattJ)  :  feesitie  tljfs,  ttjeu  l)aue  it  in  greate  contempte. 
see  ot|jer  alsot  tfie  toljictje  altljougt)  tfjejjseeme  to  t!)emselue»ber# 
CSolJljje,  nottoitljstanlitng  Inill  jroite  anU  confirme  ttje  2Laines>  toit$ 
tje  decrees  of  33l)nosopi)ers,  attributing  more  to  tj)em,tf)an  to  tjje 
^oljje  3,9ro4)|)etcs  of  (Koti,  or  to  tfje  euangelistes,  anU  Apostles, 
tjjei)  iejjingas  contrarw  to  t!)em,as  t!12F|)ite  is  from  3i5lacfee.  JFuv^ 
ttjermore,  in  man»,anti  alraoste  tnall  places  of  stuUie,a  peruerse 
custome,  anK  oamnalile  bse  is  grotoen,  in  tfjat  tljtg  iunUe  bjitj  an 
otlje,  tije  scjjollers  \u|)icl)  tljcw  receiue  to  teac§e,  ncuer  to  speafee 
against  Aristotle,  Boetius,  Thomas,  Albert,  or  against  anrj  otjer  of 
tljeir  ScljoUers,  being  accompteU  as  a  ££ott,  from  tofjome,  if  anj? 
man  differ  a  fingers  brcatitf)  in  tl)oug|)t»  immeUiatclu  t^ej)  fajtl 
call  f)im  5tt-)eretifee,  a  sinful  person,  an  offenOour  of  gotilg  eares, 
anU  toortjjj)  to  ie  imrnetr.  2T|)ese  tjen  so  bnaUuiseU  ©Hants,  anU 
ennemtes  of  tje  Jijoljj  Scriptures,  are  to  fie  assaulted,  anK  tjelr 


TO    THE  READER. 

^Fortresses  anU  (Kastles  ransacfcetf,  antt  to  fceclare  fjofoe  jjreate 

tje  fclinlmesse  of  men  is,  tottt)  so  mang  Sciences  anti  8rtes,  antt 

tottj)  so  man^e  IHatsters  anti  0utl)ours,  altoages  to  erre  from  tfje 

fenotoelelifle  of  tlje  2Trutl):  anU  tjoto  jjreate  a  rasljnesse,  anti  jpre= 

sumptuous  arrojjancie  tt  ts,to  preferre  tlje  scljoolcs  of  ^fjiloso- 

jjljers,  before  tije  CJiurcl)  of  Cfjrist :   &nU  to  set  iefore,  anU  mafee 

tqutualent,  tlje  opinions  of  men, but!)  ttje  EJ^ortie  of  CJoti.  JfinaUg, 

to!)at  atotcfeetJ  Sjrannte  it  is,  to  bjmtie  tjje  toittes  of  StuDentes  to 

certaine  appointeU  &utt)ours,  antJ  to  tatte  fro  Scollers,  tfje  lioertie 

to  searct)  anU  trace  out  ^Trutt).    &l  tof)ic|)  tjiniges,  sitj  ttjeg 

are  so  apparant  tjjat  tjej)  can  not  fie  IrenieU,  £  must 

taue  partron,  if  to  ann  5:  s^all  seeme  to  Ijaue 

UeclaimeU  some  tojjat  larflely^anTj  per- 

aUuenture  sjarpeln,  against 

anj  feinte  of  ^Learning, 

or  against  tjeir 

professors. 

(*••) 


Extra6led  from  a  black-letter  edition  of  "  Henrie  Cornelius  Agrippa, 
of  the  Vanitie  and  Uncertaintie  of  Artes  and  Sciences  :  Englifhed  by 
Ja.  San.  Gent.  Imprinted  at  London,  Anno  1575." 


CONTENTS 

OF      THE      FIRST      VOLUME. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER,    1. — A  HOUSE  IN  BABYLON  THE  LESS,  AND  ITS  INMATES,  13 

CHAPTER    2.  —  THE  RESULT  OF  ME.  CONSCIENCE'S  VISIT,   ....  20 
CHAPTER    3.  —  THE  AUTHOR  INTRODUCES   HIS    FRIENDS   TO    THE 

READER, 22 

CHAPTER    4.  — OF  MODERN  PILGRIMAGES, 24 

CHAPTER    5.  — MR.  TRUEMAN   AND    MR.  OUTRIGHT,  AND   THEIR 

WIVES,    DETERMINE    TO    SET    OUT    ON   A   PlLGRIM- 
AGE, 28 

CHAPTER    6.  —  OUR  FRIENDS  RETURN  TO    THE    CITY.  —  OF  MRS.  * 
STANDTOLYES'  AND  HER   DAUGHTER   Miss    MI 
MOSA  STANDTOLYES'  VISIT, 34 

CHAPTER    7.  —  THE  MANNER  IN  WHICH  THE  TIDINGS  OF  THE  IN 
TENDED    PILGRIMAGE    is    RECEIVED  BY    THEIR 

FASHIONABLE  FRIENDS, 42 

CHAPTER    8. — THE  REV.  DOCTOR  UPATREB  VISITS  OUR  FRIENDS,     46 
CHAPTER    9.  —  FRANK'S  INTERVIEW  WITH  HIS  FATHER'S  PARTNER, 

MR.  TRUSTWORTHY, 52 

CHAPTER  10.  —  OF  BABYLON  AND  ITS  SOCIETY, 54 

CHAPTER  11.  —  DR.  GOODWIN  DINES  WITH  OUR  FRIENDS,    ....    59 
CHAPTER  12.— DR.  UPATREE  DINES  WITH  ouu  FRIENDS.  —  THEIR 

COLLOQUY, 63 


X  CO  NTENTS. 

PAGE. 

CHAPTER  13.  —  MRS.  GENERAL  MONTGOMERY  AND  Miss  GOLIGIIT- 

LY'S  VISIT, 68 

CHAPTER  14.  — THE  PILGRIMAGE  is  COMMENCED, 71 

CHAPTER  15.  —  ODK  PILGRIMS  DINE  WITH  COUNT  DE  VILLE,  .  .  81 
CHAPTER  16.  —  THE  PILGRIMS  BREAKFAST  AT  THE  CHATEAU. — 

THE  LIBRARY  OF  COUNT  DE  VILLE, 87 

CHAPTER  17.  — THEY  REACH  THE  INTERPRETERS' HOUSES,  ....  91 
CHAPTER  18.  — THE  PILGRIMS  REACH  THE  TREMONT  HOUSE,  ...  95 

CHAPTER  19.  — OF  THE  INTERPRETERS'  HOUSES, 98 

CHAPTER  20.  —THEY  DINE  WITH  SOME  STRONG-MINDED  WOMEN,     .  101 

CHAPTER  21. —THE  CONVERSATION  AFTER  DINNER, 108 

CHAPTER  22.  —  MR.  TOLLMAN'S  LUCID  EXPLANATIONS  OF  MOOTED 

QUESTIONS, 114 

CHAPTER  23. — PRELIMINARY  MEETING  OF  THE  WOMAN'S  RIGHTS 

CONVENTION  AT  THE  TREMONT  HOUSE,  .  .  .  .118 
CHAPTER  24.  — PROGRESS  OF  OPINION  AT  THE  TREMONT,  .  .  .  .  129 
CHAPTER  25. — THE  YOUNG  WOMEN'S  RIGHTS  CONVENTION,  .  .  .  131 
CHAPTER  20.  —  OF  THE  FOUNDATIONS  OF  DELL'  ITALIA  AND  THE 

OXFORD, 137 

CHAPTER  27.  —  THE  BISHOP  OF  INPINETARIS,  AND  HIS  PENITEN 
TIARY,    140 

CHAPTER  28.  —  COUNT  DE  VILLE'S  VISIT  TO  THE  OXFORD  HOUSE,    145 

CHAPTER  29.  —  OF  ANGELIQUE  AND  BLANCO  SEVILLE, 151 

CHAPTER  30.  —  OF  THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE  IN  THE  VALLEY,  .  153 
CHAPTER  31. — OF  THE  OLD  AND  NEW  SCHOOL  HOTELS,  .  .  .  .155 
CHAPTER  32.  —  OF  THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE  AT  YALE,  .  .  .  .157 
CHAPTER  33.  —  THE  WESLEYAN,  ANDOVER,  AND  ROGER  WILLIAMS 

HOUSES, 159 

CHAPTER  34. — OUR  PILGRIMS  REACH  THE  CITY  OF  VANITY  FAIR,  167 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGH. 

CHAPTER  35.  —  OP  LORD  AND  LADY  DIELINCCEUR  AND  THEIR 
FRIENDS,  —  COLONEL  AND  MRS.  PROUDFIT.  — 
LORD  SHALLBESO  AND  BISHOP  HIGHANDRY,  .  .172 

CHAPTER  36.  —  DINNER-PARTY  AT  LORD  DIELINCOEUR'S, 176 

CHAPTER  37.  —  LORD  SHALLBESO   MEETS  BISHOP  HIGHANDRY  AT 

OUR  PILGRIMS', 184 

CHAPTER  38.  —  OUR  PILGRIMS    BECOME    RESIDENTS    OF    VANITY 

FAIR, 190 

CHAPTER  39.  —  OF  THE  FAMILY  OF  TURNUPNOSES,  AND   OF  THE 

CONSERVATORS  OF  GOOD  SOCIETY, 194 

CHAPTER  40. —A  MORNING  VISIT  OF  FASHIONABLE  LADIES,     .    .197 

CHAPTER  41.  —  THE  HARDSHELLS  IN  VANITY  FAIR, 205 

CHAPTER  42.  — MRS.  PROUDFIT'S  OPENING  PARTY*— TIIE  ARRIVAL 

OF  THE  NIGHTINGALE, 206 

CHAPTER  43.  —  LADY  Di.'s  PARTY  TO  THE  BISHOP  OF  TURKEY,      217 
CHAPTER  44.  —  AN  INCIDENT  AT   MRS.   MOLESWORTH'S  DINNER 
PARTY,  226 

CHAPTER  45.  —  THE  CONFIRMATION, 229 

CHAPTER  46. — PROFESSOR  LACY'S  PLAN  TO  RECOVER  THE  ODOR 

OF  SANCTITY, 233 

CHAPTER  47.  —  A  NEW  ORDER  OF  HOLY  INNOCENTS  CREATED,  .  .  242 
CHAPTER  48.  —  OF  THE  "DISCIPLINES"  TO  BE  USED  BY  THE 

HOLY  INNOCENTS, 244 

CHAPTER  49.  —  THE  FAIR  PENITENT  OF  A  JESUIT.  —  HER  CODE  OF 

MORALS, 250 

CHAPTER  50. —AN  ASCETIC  MONK  AND  HIS  PENITENT, 255 

CHAPTER  51.  —  THE  FLAGELLATION  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS,  .  .261 

CHAPTER  52. — LADY  DIELINCCEUR'S  MAY  PARTY, 270 

CHAPTER  53.  —  VISIT  TO  TII-E  PHALANSTERY, 277 

CHAPTER  54.— A  DAY  AT  THE  PHALANSTERY, 282 


XII  CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

CHAPTEE  65.  —  THE  EMPLOYMENT  AND  ENJOYMENTS  AT  A  PHA 
LANSTERY,     285 

CHAPTER  56. — THE  MYSTERIES  or  THE  PHALANSTERY  BEGIN  TO 

OPEN,     292 

CHAPTER  57.  — OF  THE  "  LITTLE  HORDES," 299 

CHAPTER  58.  — LIFE  AT  THE  PHALANSTERY, 302 

CHAPTER  59.  — OF  "LITTLE  COMMENCERS,"  BONNES,  AND  BABIES, 

IN  THE  PHALANSTERY, 310 

CHAPTER  60.  —  THE  MURDER  OF  MRS.  COUBTNEY'S  CHILD,  .  .  .316 
CHAPTER  61.  —  CONSUELO'S  JEALOUSY  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES,  .  323 
CHAPTER  62. — OUR  PILGRIMS,  MRS.  COURTNEY,  AND  ADELAIDE, 

RETURN   TO    VANITY    FAIR,        334 

CHAPTER  63.  —  A  VISIT  TO  THE  DELECTABLE  MOUNTAINS,  ....  338 
CHAPTER  64.  —  COGITATIONS  OF  OUR  PILGRIMS  AS  TO  THE  SIGHTS 

SEEN    ON   THE    DELECTABLE    MOUNTAINS,   .     .  ^.     .  346 

CHAPTER  65.  —  THEY  GO  TO  THE  CAMP-GROUND  AVHERE  THE  FEAST 

OF  TABERNACLES  is  BEING  HELD, 349 

CHAPTER  66.  —  THE  REVEREND  BROTHER  SOFTANDSWEET,  ....  352 

CHAPTER  67.  — THE  CAMP  BY  MOONLIGHT 361 

CHAPTER  68.  — THE  SABBATH.  —  SERMONS  BY  BROTHER  ROUSEALL 

AND  BROTHER  SOFTANDSWEET, 367 

CHAPTER  69.  —  THE  CAMP  AT  NIGHT.  —  BROTHER  SOFTANDSWEET 

TRIUMPHANT, 376 

CHAPTER  70.  —  THEY  RETURN  TO  VANITY  FAIR. — THE  STATE  OF 

PARTIES, 379 

CHAPTER  71. —THEY  VISIT  A  "CATHOLIC  REPOSITORY"  OF 

RELICS, 384 


MODERN    PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  HOUSE  IN   BABYLON   THE   LESS,   AND   ITS  INMATES. 

A  LONG  succession  of  hot  days  in  June  had  powdered  with  dust 
the  trees  and  shrubbery  of  the  city  of  Babylon  the  Less.  The 
sun  had  gone  down,  and  the  moon's  radiance  was  becoming  more 
and  more  apparent.  Servants  belonging  to  a  residence  on  the 
Fifth  Avenue  were  occupied  in  watering  the  trees  and  pavement. 
Upon  the  platform  of  the  entrance  lay,  at  full  length,  a  large 
Newfoundland  dog,  who,  restless  with  heat,  had  rolled  out  of  the 
spacious  hall,  and  thrown  himself  down  upon  the  door-step  with 
all  the  recklessness  of  despair. 

The  open  hall  wore  the  marks  of  great  wealth ;  the  mellow 
light  of  the  hall-lamp  showed  the  busts  and  statues  with  which  it 
was  adorned.  The  parlors  were  opened  to  the  evening  breeze, 
which,  through  windows  rising  from  the  floor,  found  free  access. 
It  was  something  to  see,  to  watch  the  play  of  the  rich  embroidered 
lace  drapery  of  the  windows,  swelling  out  and  sending  streamers 
into  the  room,  and  then  declining  more  and  more  to  a  point  of 
rest,  soon  to  be  disturbed,  and  to  swell  and  fall  as  the  zephyrs  of 
2 


14  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

evening  came  thronging  in  to  enjoy  the  perfumes  of  flowers  filling 
the  rich  vases,  and  play  in  the  mimic  moonshine  of  shaded  lamps. 
Everything  in  this  spacious  saloon  told  of  the  wealth  and  taste 
of  the  owner.  The  piano  was  open ;  the  harp  was  uncovered ; 
and  books  lay  about  the  tables,  some  upon  their  faces,  as  they 
had  been  laid  down  from  the  hand  of  the  reader,  —  and  these 
were  books  of  worth  —  "  books  that  are  books."  And,  too,  the 
visitor  here  found  everything  in  its  place.  No  tiny  shoe  was 
slipped  off  in  the  corner  of  any  of  its  many  luxurious  chairs  ;  no 
doll,  with  its  nose  defaced  or  an  arm  broken,  told  of  the  rosy 
child  snugly  sleeping  in  the  nursery  above.  No  !  this  home  had 
none  of  those  sweet  proofs  of  childhood  —  a  disorder  one  loves 
to  see. 

And  now  an  open  barouche,  drawn  by  noble  horses,  was  driven 
up  to  the  carriage-step,  when  two  young  gentlemen,  with  two 
young  and  lovely  ladies,  alighted,  and,  with  a  languid  air,  walked 
up  the  steps.  One  of  the  ladies  stooped  down  to  caress  the  dog, 
while  the  others  looked  on,  amused  with  his  look  of  ennui  and 
exhaustion.  The  dog  raised  his  head,  and  kissed  awkwardly  the 
fair  hand  of  his  mistress,  and  then  threw  his  head  down  upon  the 
floor  of  the  pavement.  Stepping  over  him,  the  party  from  the 
carriage  entered  the  house.  This  party  consisted  of  Frank  True- 
man,  and  his  cousin  Oliver  Outright;  Gertrude  Trueman,  and 
her  cousin  Annie  Outright.  The  house  belonged  to  Frank  True 
man. 

On  entering  the  parlors,  Frank  threw  himself  into  an  easy- 
chair,  putting  his  feet  upon  an  ottoman ;  and  Oliver  seated  him 
self  upon  a  sofa.  The  ladies  gave  their  bonnets  and  scarfs  to  a 
maid,  and  entered  together. 


OLD  ME.  CONSCIENCE  ENTERS.  15 

For  a  while  they  walked,  arm-in-arm,  up  and  down  the  rooms. 
Then  separating,  Gertrude  went  to  the  harp,  and  commenced 
playing  a  polka,  while  Annie  sat  down  to  the  piano,  and  played 
an  accompaniment.  At  first  they  seemed  quite  in  the  humor  for 
it.  But,  a  string  breaking,  Gertrude  left  the  harp,  and,  rolling 
up  an  ottoman,  seated  herself  by  her  husband ;  Annie,  with  a 
slide  of  her  finger  upon  the  keys,  whisked  herself  off  from  the 
piano-stool,  and  seated  herself  near  to  her  husband,  who  sat  in 
a  brown  study,  while  Frank  was  impatiently  fanning  himself. 

"  How  insufferably  hot  it  has  been  for  a  whole  week  !  I  think 
this  must  be  the  hottest  day  of  the  year.  What  day  of  the  month 
is  it  ?  "  So  spoke  Frank  Trueman. 

"  It  is  the  25th  of  June,  Anno  Domini  1850,"  replied  Annie; 
and  here  the  conversation  rested  a  while. 

"  Did  you  call  on  the  Van  Dykes  when  you  were  down  town 
this  morning  ?  "  asked  Gertrude  of  Annie. 

"Yes,  and  found  them  all  gone  to  the  sea-shore,"  was  the 
reply. 

"  I  wish  we  were  there ;  and  why  don't  we  go  ?  "  said  Frank. 

"  I  wish  we  were ;  and  why  can't  we  go  ?  "  said  his  wife. 

"  This  city  is  as  stupid  as  it  is  hot !  "  said  Frank. 

This  was  a  general  remark,  addressed  to  no  one  in  particular, 
and  so  no  one  saw  fit  to  answer. 

While  thus  occupied,  an  old  gentleman  came  in  unobserved  by 
the  party,  who  had  now  arranged  their  seats  fronting  the  windows, 
so  as  to  get  the  breeze  directly  in  their  faces,  and  sat  with  their 
backs  toward  the  doors  opening  into  the  hall. 

As  the  new  comer  drew  near,  stealthily,  to  the  circle,  he  was  first 
seen  by  Frank,  who,  rising,  stretched  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke  : 


16  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"  Ah,  my  old  friend  Conscience !  what  brings  you  here  ?  But 
first  let  me  present  you  to  my  sweet  wife,  Gertrude.  And  here, 
too,  are  Oliver  and  wife.  You  see  we  have  followed  your 
advice,  and  in  doing  so  have  given  hostages  to  society  for  our 
good  behavior." 

The  old  gentleman  was  welcomed  as  an  old  friend,  and  received 
the  salutations  of  the  young  wives  with  distinguished  courtesy. 

"  And  now,"  asked  Frank,  "  I  am  curious  to  know  what  has 
brought  you  here  at  this  time.  Have  you  any  very  libellous 
charges  to  make  against  us  to  our  wives  ?  You  may  as  well  tell 
us  all,  for  I  know  you  have  an  errand  of  some  sort." 

"  My  young  friends,"  replied  the  old  man,  in  a  tone  of  great 
kindness,  "  I  rejoice  to  know  you  have  given  yourselves  into  the 
care  of  these  ladies,"  —  bowing  to  them  as  he  spoke.  "  It  is  the 
first  step  towards  safety,  purity,  and  peace." 

The  ladies  rose,  as  by  one  impulse,  and  kneeled  before  the  old 
man,  who  laid  his  hands  upon  their  heads  and  blessed  them ; 
which  so  pleased  Frank  and  Oliver,  that  they  shook  the  hand  of 
the  old  man,  and,  wheeling  up  a  chair  into  the  circle,  earnestly 
begged  him  to  be  seated.  With  an  air  of  expectancy  they  sat  in 
silence  for  a  moment,  when  Frank  addressed  Mr.  Conscience  : 

"  I  know,  my  dear  sir,  you  have  something  to  tell  us ;  so  speak 
out.  I  am  ready  to  listen.  You  can't  say  anything  about  the 
worthlessness  of  the  pursuits  of  fashionable  life,  that  we  will  not 
acknowledge." 

"0,  yes ! "  cried  Annie ;  "  we  are  at  our  wits'  end  to  know 
what  to  do  next,  and,  if  you  can  save  us  from  the  misery  we 
suffer,  I  shall  be  glad.  Our  husbands  love  us  dearly.  Don't 
you  ?  "  said  she,  turning  briskly  round  to  Oliver,  who  patted  his 


MR.  CONSCIENCE'S  MESSAGE.  IT 

wife's  cheek,  and  bowed  his  acquiescence.  Gertrude  made  a  like 
interrogatory  of  Frank,  by  lifting  her  head  from  his  shoulder,  and 
looking  him  in  the  face ;  and  he  answered  her  mute  questioning 
by  kissing  her  forehead,  when  she  resumed  her  position.  All 
this  pantomime,  expressive  as  it  was,  and  pretty  to  behold,  being 
over,  Annie  continued  her  address  to  Mr.  Conscience  :  "  But, 
dear  sir,  we  are  not  able  to  make  our  husbands  happy.  They 
told  us  we  could,  and  we  hoped  we  might ;  and  I  am  sure  we  Ve 
tried  to  do  so,  have  n't  we,  Gertrude  ?  "  who  assented  by  a  bow, 
looking  once  more  into  Frank's  face  for  a  response.  "  But  now," 
said  Annie,  and  all  the  gladness  of  her  silvery  voice  was  gone, 
"  they  are  restless  and  unhappy ;  they  hate  to  go  out,  and  are 
miserable  at  home.  If  they  go  to  a  party  with  us,  it  is  to  come 
back  exhausted  without  effort,  and  fatigued  without  labor. 
Surely,  something  must  be  done,  —  and  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  0,  yes  !  "  said  Gertrude  ;  "  it  is  all  true.  I  am  willing  to 
go  anywhere,  so  I  can  see  Frank  once  more  look  bright  and 
happy." 

"  I  am  happy,  you  little  gypsy,"  said  Frank. 

"0  no,  dear  Frank,  you  are  not !  Not  so  happy  as  you  were 
before  we  were  married,"  said  Gertrude. 

"  Don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  Mr.  Conscience  !  "  said  Frank. 
"  I  unhappy,  because  I  have  attained  to  the  highest  happiness! 
How  strange,  Gertrude,  it  is  in  you  to  say  this !  " 

"  My  young  friends,"  said  old  Mr.  Conscience,  "  listen  to  me  ! 
You  sigh  for  happiness,  and  it  is  not  here.  Wealth  is  yours 
already  ;  and  fame  is  hard  to  be  attained,  and  is  rarely  reached 
by  the  rich  student.  The  stimulus  of  necessity  is  wanting  to 
success ;  you  cannot  compete  with  men  whose  intellectual  strength 
2* 


18  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

is  brought  up  to  its  height  by  the  promptings  of  poverty,  and 
it  may  be  the  claims  of  children.  But  you,  my  friends,  have 
a  crown  to  gain ;  a  life  to  win,  or  a  life  to  lose ;  and  all  depends 
on  your  being  pilgrims  to  the  Celestial  City.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

This  was  an  address  which  made  them  silent.  Oliver  spoke 
first : 

"  It  is  a  pilgrimage  I  have  always  dreaded  to  think  of;  a 
dreary  pilgrimage,  commenced  by  many,  only  to  be  relinquished  as 
utterly  hopeless.  I  do  not  like  to  put  my  hand  to  the  plough  and 
turn  back." 

Old  Mr.  Conscience  replied,  with  some  sternness :  "  Oliver,  I 
have  known  you  from  a  child.  You  know,  in  your  inmost  soul, 
that  your  only  hope  of  happiness  is  in  living  the  life  of  a  pil 
grim  ;  and  the  sooner  you  all  commence  this  pilgrimage,  the 
happier  for  all." 

"  But  how  can  we*  be  sure  of  taking  the  right  road  ?  "  asked 
Frank,  who  knew  very  little  about  the  matter.  "  There  are  a 
multitude  of  guide-books,  and  who  is  to  tell  which  is  the  best  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  such  question,"  replied  Mr.  Conscience ;  "  the 
Lord  of  the  way  has  himself  left  us  a  Guide-book.  That  is  our 
directory,  and  that  only.  The  path  is  straight,  and  those  only 
fail  who  turn  aside  to  paths  of  their  own  selection.  Is  there 
nothing  in  a  crown  of  life  to  stir  up  your  souls  to  a  sacrifice  of 
the  present  for  the  future  ?  When,  too,  you  are  each  of  you 
sadly  conscious  that  all  the  gifts  of  youth,  love,  and  wealth,  fail  to 
fill  up  the  wants  of  the  soul ! " 

"  Dear  Mr.  Conscience,"  said  Gertrude,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to 
go ;  but  will  not  you  be  our  guide  ?  " 

"  Here,  my  lady,"  said  Mr.  Conscience,  taking  a  small  book 


THE    GUIDE-BOOK.  19 

from  his  pocket ;  "  here  is  the  Guide-book  ;  read  this  :  make  it 
the  man  of  your  counsel.  It  will  be  of  itself  sufficient ;  let  this 
be  the  light  to  your  path,  and  you  need  fear  no  evil." 

Gertrude  took  the  book,  with  her  thanks,  and  promised  to  read 
it  faithfully. 

Mr.  Conscience  rose  to  go.  Frank  urged  him  to  remain  and 
make  some  stay  with  them ;  but  he  excused  himself,  saying  he 
had  other  friends  to  see  during  his  visit  to  the  city.  Promising 
to  see  them  again  soon,  with  benignant  smiles  and  courtesy, 
expressed  especially  toward  the  ladies,  he  took  his  departure. 

The  hour  of  retiring  having  come,  our  ladies  withdrew,  after 
having  obtained  the  accustomed  promise  from  their  husbands  not 
to  sit  up  talking  till  past  midnight. 

The  gentlemen,  thus  left  alone,  sat  a  while  in  silence.  Oliver 
spoke  :  "  I  have  had  longings  from  my  childhood  to  go  on  a  pil 
grimage  ;  but  I  have  hoped  to  find  happiness  nearer  home." 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Frank,  "  happiness  is  never  to  be  mine.  In 
boyhood  I  looked  forward  to  be  a  man,  and  then  I  said,  'I  will 
love  and  be  loved ; '  now  I  am  a  man,  loving  and  beloved,  and 
yet  the  malady  of  my  soul  is  unrest.  Who  knows  but  the  very 
sacrifices  and  perils  of  a  pilgrimage  may  afford  that  excitement  to 
effort  which  all  the  world  beside  fails  to  supply  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Oliver,  "  such  motives  are  unworthy  of  the 
end  to  be  attained.  If  we  set  out  on  this  pilgrimage,  it  should 
not  be  because  we  are  dissatisfied  with  the  present ;  but  our  mo 
tives  should  take  their  rise  in  a  supreme  love  to  the  Lord  of  life. 
But  how  to  get  this  love  !  It  is  not  in  us  by  nature,  nor  can  we 
create  it.  A  blind  man  might  as  well  talk  of  seeing  the  beauties 
of  nature,  as  we  those  of  faith." 


20  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Oliver  ?  "  said  Frank,  musingly.  "  Where 
did  you  get  these  thoughts  ?  Have  they  just  now  originated  in 
your  mind  ?  " 

"  Self-originated  !  "  exclaimed  Oliver ;  "  no,  indeed  !  They  are 
the  teachings  of  the  Guide-book." 

This  idea  of  a  pilgrimage  was  new  to  Frank  ;  it  was  something 
to  struggle  for,  and  it  excited  his  mind  greatly ;  and,  on  his  way 
to  his  chamber,  he  was  induced  to  take  from  the  library  a  massive 
folio,  richly  bound  and  firmly  clasped,  which  when  a  boy  was 
taken  down  occasionally  only  to  admire  its  typography  and  old 
illustrative  pictures.  But  since  the  days  of  childhood  it  had 
become  a  sealed  book  to  him. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE   RESULT    OF   MR.    CONSCIENCE'S    VISIT. 

THE  next  day  the  family  circle  at  Mr.  Trueman's  began  a 
careful  examination  of  the  Guide-book,  with  reference  to  its 
claims  upon  each  and  all  of  them  to  become  pilgrims  to  the 
Celestial  City. 

A  pilgrimage,  when  the  thought  occurred,  was  regarded  as  a 
journey  to  be  undertaken  in  old  age  ;  and  with  all  the  £icilities 
for  travel  of  late  years,  it  never  seemed  to  them  a  matter  of 
importance  when  it  should  be  commenced.  The  thought  that 
the  only  ground  of  success  depended  on  an  instant  setting  forth, 


LETTER.  21 

and  that,  even  then,  it  was  only  a  perhaps,* —  since  it  might  be 
the  golden  hour  of  opportunity  had  slipped  away  unheeded,  —  this 
took  deep  hold  upon  all  their  hearts. 

The  vastness  of  the  interests  at  stake  for  the  first  time  seriously 
occupied  their  thoughts.  Then,  too,  they  read  as  they  had  never 
read  before  the  fate  of  those  who,  in  other  ways  than  the  one 
way  trod  by  the  Lord  of  life,  sought  admittance  at  the  City  of 
God  -,  and  were  startled  by  the  denunciations  of  "  blind  leaders 
of  the  blind."  These  were  dread  thoughts,  and  as  new  as  they 
were  terrible. 

While  thus  occupied,  one  morning,  Mr.  Van  Dyke  called  with 
letters  from  his  daughters,  whom  he  had  left  in  fine  health  at  the 
Ocean  House,  and  of  whose  pursuits  and  enjoyments  the  amiable 
father  spoke  with  all  kindness  and  love.  When  he  left,  the  let 
ters  were  read  aloud.  They  were  full  of  entreaties  to  lose  no 
time  in  coming  and  sharing  in  their  delightful,  health-inspiring 
amusements  on  the  sea-shore.  They  enumerated  various  groups 
of  mutual  friends,  from  various  cities,  who  had  already  arrived  ; 
and  mentioned  others  expected,  whose  rooms  were  already 
bespoken.  Miss  Julia  Van  Dyke,  with  an  abandon  suited  to 
the  subject,  described  the  various  assemblies,  and  of  waltzing 
with  "  a  real,  live  lord ;  "  and,  above  all,  the  recently-introduced 
custom  of  sea-bathing  in  company  with  gentlemen.  Her  delight 
was  sweetly  expressed,  as  she  pictured  the  wildriess  of  the  waves 
rolling  up  and  sweeping  her  off  her  feet,  while  she  was  upheld  by 
her  attendant  beaux;  one  gentleman,  in  particular,  Miss  Julia 
described  as  a  handsome  French  count.  She  was  especially  anx 
ious  for  Mrs.  Trueman  and  Mrs.  Outright's  presence ;  for,  she 

*  Acts  8:  22. 


22  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

wrote,  "  Mamma  will  not  let  us  go  down  to  the  surf  without  a 
married  lady  to  matronize  us." 

Mr.  Conscience  came  in  as  they  were  reading  these  letters,  and 
at  once  brought  before  their  minds  the  terrible  truths  of  the 
Guide-book.  He  said  he  regarded  this  ocean-bathing  one  of  the 
pit-falls  of  modesty  and  propriety.  He  advised  them  to  go  at 
once  to  Oliver's  cottage  and  farm  on  the  banks  of  the  river, 
where,  amid 'scenes  of  sylvan  beauty,  they  could  pursue  the  study 
of  their  Guide-book.  This  advice  they  adopted  the  week  follow 
ing  ;  and  it  was  with  new  thoughts  and  aspirations  they  looked 
abroad  upon  the  works  of  God  and  read  the  word  of  God. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE  AUTHOR  INTRODUCES  HIS  FRIENDS  TO  THE  READER. 

WHILE  our  friends  are  enjoying  the  health-inspiring  occupations 
of  the  country,  we  shall  more  formally  introduce  them  to  the 
reader. 

As  we  have  already  said,  Frank  Trueman  and  Oliver  Outright 
were  cousins,  natives  of  Babylon  the  Less,  inheritors  of  large 
fortunes,  the  reward  of  their  fathers'  enterprise.  They  had  been 
brought  up  at  the  same  schools,  had  graduated  at  the  same  col 
lege,  with  fair  reputation  for  scholarship.  Frank  had  read  law. 
while  Oliver  studied  medicine,  at  the  same  university,  —  not  be 
cause  they  purposed  to  practise  their  professions,  but  they  deemed 
this  course  as  necessary  to  a  complete  education. 


THE   PILGRIMS  DESCRIBED.  23 

Frank  was  six  feet  high,  and  finely  formed,  with  a  bright, 
speaking  eye,  and  a  smiling  face ;  his  head  was  well  shaped,  and 
set  proudly  upon  his  shoulders.  Oliver  was  an  inch  or  two 
below  Frank  in  height,  with  a  genial  air  and  open  countenance, 
which  at  once  secured  the  confidence  of  a  stranger.  His  mouth, 
when  smiling,  showed  him  possessed  of  a  beautiful  set  of  teeth,  and 
his  laugh  had  a  charm  in  it  which  failed  not  to  enliven  the  circle 
around  him.  These  gentlemen  had  just  commenced  their  twenty- 
fifth  year ;  and,  as  they  had  been  paired  so  perfectly  in  their 
studies,  so  they  stood  together  at  the  same  altar,  and  at  the  same 
moment  pledged  their  love  and  fealty  to  their  young  and  beauti 
ful  brides,  of  whom  we  shall  now  speak. 

Annie  was  almost  tall,4 — beautiful  in  form  and  feature.  Her 
hazel  eyes  shone  like  stars  under  a  full  forehead.  But  it  was  her 
voice  that  was  felt :  that  truest  test  of  the  unseen  soul  was  as  musi 
cal  as  the  melody  of  birds.  Her  step  was  proud  and  buoyant,  and 
in  every  movement  there  was  grace  and  dignity.  Her  cousin  Ger 
trude  was  not  so  tall  as  Annie ;  nor  was  her  soul  so  buoyant ;  nor 
had  she  her  enthusiasm.  Her  form  was  not  less  beautiful ;  but  hers 
was  the  grace  which  won  the  heart  by  its  gentleness,  and  reliance 
for  love  and  protection.  There  was  a  mild  radiance  in  her  blue 
eye,  often  dimmed  by  a  tear  gushing  up  from  a  sensitive  and 
generous  nature.  It  was  her  trustfulness  which  won  the  sym 
pathy  of  generous  minds,  —  a  kindliness  she  delighted  to  acknowl 
edge  and  reciprocate. 

These  young  ladies  had  been  trained  with  great  care,  and  were 
eminently  distinguished  for  their  perfect  acquaintance  with  mod 
ern  languages.  It  was  not  simply  a  facility  in  talking  common- 


24  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

places  in  foreign  languages,  —  a  mistake  made  by  some  who 
"  talk  French." 

In  their  nineteenth  year,  in  all  the  completeness  of  youth, 
beauty,  and  cultivated  minds,  they  returned  to  Babylon,  with  a 

fixed  determination  never  to  be  married until  they  had  been 

in  society  as  young  ladies  for  two  seasons.  But  at  the  first  party 
these  young  cousins  met  Oliver  and  Frank,  who  fell  in  love  at 
first  sight,  —  most  happily,  not  with  the  same  lady.  An  earnest 
courtship  of  a  whole  year  ensued,  and  a  happy  year  it  was, 
when  the  ladies  reluctantly  consented  to  appear  at  the  opening  of 
their  second  winter  season  as  brides.  This  event  had  taken  place 
just  eight  months  before  our  story  begins.  Mrs.  Honour  would 
have  said  these  marriages,  like  that  of  Sophia  Western  and  Torn. 
Jones,  were  "  made  in  heaven,  and  all  the  justices  of  the  peace 
on  earth  could  not  prevent  them ;  "  for  they  were  all  young,  well 
educated,  endowed  with  beauty,  and,  more  than  this,  being  or 
phans,  they  had  a  right  to  do  as  they  pleased ;  and  most  fortu 
nate  it  was  that  they  early  made  their  election  for  life  so  wisely 
and  so  well. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

OF    MODERN    PILGRIMAGES. 

Two  centuries  prior  to  the  day  of  which  we  write,  pilgrimages 
to  the  Celestial  City  were  regarded  as  vulgar,  and  left  entirely  to 
the  ignorant  and  obscure,  who  were  greatly  interested  in  such 


OF  THE  SEVERAL  BRIDGES.  25 

matters.  But  tliese  topics  had  become,  in  modern  times,  ex 
tremely  fashionable,  and  the  momentous  question  was  everywhere 
discussed,  "  Who  is  your  leader,  and  what  bridge  do  you  cross? " 
Now,  then,  to  understand  all  these  matters,  the  reader  must  be 
told  that  there  was  a  river  to  be  crossed  in  setting  forth  on  a 
pilgrimage,  which  stream  the  citizens  of  the  city  of  Babylon  had, 
with  eminent  appropriateness,  named  "  Spuyting  Teufel  Creek," — 
a  narrow  river,  with  a  rapid  current,  flowing  over  a  bed  of  sand. 
'  It  may  seem  strange  to  our  readers  that  it  should  matter  much 
what  bridge  was  to  be  crossed,  or  what  caravan  was  joined,  so 
the  traveller  really  made  the  pilgrimage  with  all  zeal  and  dili 
gence.  But  so  it  was.  Exclusiveness  was  the  order  of  the  day ; 
and  it  was  a  question  to  be  met  at  the  start,  "  Which  bridge  do 
you  cross  ?  "  and  "  What  badge  do  you  wear  ?  " 

The  border  of  the  river  was  marshy  and  destitute  of  rock,  and 
the  bottom  was  a  quicksand;  so  that,  in  constructing  the  first 
bridge,  the  "  old  Romans "  were  compelled  to  rely  upon  the 
abutments  laid  in  the  bank.  These  were  of  great  extent  along 
the  line  of  the  river,  and  were  built  of  weighty  "  decretals,"  as 
they  were  called,  —  great  masses  of  lead  and  brass,  —  which 
were  imbedded  in  the  banks.  The  arch  of  the  Roman  bridge 
sprung  from  side  to  side ;  and  it  stood  the  wonder  of  the  world. 
To  be  sure,  the  abutments  sometimes  showed  signs  of  giving  way; 
but  new  decretals  of  great  power,  and  heavier  than  those  before 
used,  kept  the  bridge  in  its  position.  And  so  it  stood  until  the 
era  of  the  Reformation,  as  it  was  called  by  many,  when  the  Epis 
copal  bridge  was  erected  alongside  the  Roman  bridge,  resting  on 
the  same  abutments,  and  with  the  same  curve  of  the  arch,  so  that 
there  was  little  to  choose  between  the  two,  only  that  the  last  was 
3 


26  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

most  modern  in  its  appearance.  But  when  those  great  master, 
workmen,  the  two  Johns,  of  Edinburgh  and  Geneva,  set  up  a 
separate  party,  they  determined  to  have  a  bridge  of  their  own. 
Now,  as  they  would  not  use  the  decretals  for  abutments,  they 
must  needs  rely  upon  a  pier,  and  for  this  they  needed  a  founda 
tion  in  the  river  itself.  There  had  once  been  a  rock  in  the  middle 
of  the  stream,  called  the  Rock  of  Abraham,  by  means  of  which 
the  great  prince  whose  name  it  bore  was  authorized  and  enabled 
to  take  himself  and  his  infant  sons  across  the  river.  This  stood 
until  the  days  of  Paul  the  Iconoclast,  who,  finding  the  early  pil 
grims  greatly  attached  to  this  liock  of  Abraham,  blasted  it,  and 
blew  it  into  fragments,  as  he  thought,  to  its  very  base.  But,  so 
soon  as  this  necessity  arose,  by  sounding  the  depths  carefully,  the 
ridge  of  this  old  rock  was  reached,  and  forthwith,  in  despite  of  the 
denunciations  of  stockholders  in  the  Roman  and  English  bridges,  the 
famous  Presbyterian  bridge  was  built  upon  a  single  pier.  This  was, 
however,  found  to  be  a  subject  of  constant  anxiety  and  repair ;  for, 
as  the  abrasion  of  the  water  was  incessant,  it  became  an  instant 
necessity  to  discharge  around  the  base  cart-loads  of  lead,  about 
the  size  of  a  book ;  though,  of  late  years,  sheets  of  lead  as  thick 
as  a  sermon  or  pamphlet  were  found  sufficient  to  keep  the  frame 
work  steady.  It  was  found,  indeed,  by  long  experience,  that 
nothing  but  a  constant  supply  of  lead  could  be  confidently  relied 
upon ;  for  the  material,  being  heavy,  slid  off  from  the  extremely 
narrow  surface  of  the  rock,  and  sunk  to  depths  unknown. 
.  So  much  for  the  bridges.  Now,  to  understand  the  importance 
of  these  bridges  in  modern  times,  it  must  be  here  told  that,  at 
first,  only  adults  set  out  on  pilgrimages,  leaving  their  children  to 
grow  up  to  man's  estate  before  undertaking  them,  which  was  a 


OF  THE  SEVERAL  BRIDGES.  27 

great  grief  to  the  loving  hearts  of  parents.  So,  then,  these 
bridges  were  built ;  and  children,  as  soon  as  they  could  say  the 
creed,  became  pilgrims.  But  so  many  died  before  they  could 
walk,  that  the  great  casuists,  doctors  of  divinity,  as  they  are 
now  called,  set  their  wits  to  work  and  made  a  discovery,  which 
has  been  called  in  these  days  "  Constructive  Journeys  ;  "  that  is 
to  say,  an  infant  who  appeared  at  the  toll-gate  in  the  arms  of  its 
parents,  and  was  registered,  if  he  died  in  infancy  or  childhood, 
was  held  as  having,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  made  the  pilgrimage 
in  his  proper  person,  and  entitled  to  the  rewards  promised  to  all 
true  pilgrims.  But  it  was  held  by  the  Roman  and  some  of  the 
Episcopal  divines  that  no  infant  was  benefited  in  the  least 
unless  duly  registered  at  their  toll-gate.  "  Our  bridge  "  became 
a  synonyme  for  "  our  badge ; "  the  one  was  consequent  on  the 
other. 

Modern  politicians,  availing  themselves  of  the  casuistry  of  the 
great  doctors  of  the  church,  claimed  their  mileage  upon  the 
principle  of  constructive  journeys,  whenever  the  contingency  arose 
where  the  claim  was  applicable.  And  not  only  so,  the  laws  for 
the  naturalization  of  aliens  held  that  a  declaration  to  become  a 
citizen  being  duly  made  in  the  courts,  and  properly  registered,  was 
to  be  regarded  as  valid  as  the  registry  of  a  child  to  become,  in 
due  time,  a  denizen  of  the  Celestial  City. 


28  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER   Y. 

MR.    THUEMAN    AND   MR.    OUTRIGHT,    AND    THEIR    WIVES,    DETERMINE 
TO    SET    OUT    ON   A   PILGRIMAGE. 

IT  would  be  a  narrative  of  no  small  interest  to  delineate  tlie 
progress  and  development  of  the  religious  sentiments  of  our 
friends  in  the  seclusion  of  their  cottage  in  the  country.  As 
Mr.  Conscience  had  said,  they  found  this  retreat  everyway  favor 
able  for  the  calm  consideration  of  the  great  truths  in  the 
Guide-book. 

To  Gertrude  the  truth  had  but  to  be  properly  presented,  to  be 
received  into  a  good  and  honest  heart.  With  Annie  there  was 
strife  and  conflict ;  and  her  understanding  was  at  war  with  many 
things  most  plainly  revealed,  —  a  state  of  feeling  in  which  Frank 
and  her  husband  deeply  sympathized. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  portray  this  rising  of  the  morning 
star,  and  the  day-dawn  of  the  soul.  The  more  faithfully  this 
is  done,  the  less  likely  is  it  to  be  understood.  But  we  may  say 
so  much  as  this  :  Annie  never  questioned  the  fact  of  a  revela 
tion,  which  was  the  pivot  on  which  all  turned  in  the  mind  of 
Frank.  Oliver  found  no  other  objections  than  those  of  a  his 
torical  kind ;  but  Frank,  who  at  the  law-school  had  become 
indoctrinated  in  scepticism,  and  who  was  wont  to  repeat  as  his 
creed,  "  I  believe  God  is  matter,  and  matter  is  God,  and  that  'tis 
no  matter  whether  there  be  a  God  or  no,"  now  became  conscious 
not  only  of  his  utter  scepticism,  but  of  an  enmity  of  soul  never 
before  thought  of.  It  is  in  the  night  the  stars  arc  seen ;  and 
in  the  darkness  and  terror  into  which  the  soul  is  sometimes 


MRS.  CANDIDE.  29 

brought,  Frank,  Oliver,  and  Annie,  fell  upon  their  knees,  crying 
for  mercy.  The  sovereignty  of  Deity  which  they  had  so  hated 
became  to  them  the  only  hope  of  safety ;  and  to  it  they  clung 
as  their  last  plank  in  the  ocean  of  eternity. 

The  question  then  presented  for  consideration  was  this  :  Must 
we  become  pilgrims  ?  The  more  they  thought  of  giving  up  all 
the  pleasures  and  enjoyments  of  Babylon,  the  more  repulsive  such 
a  pilgrimage  appeared.  And  yet,  all  this  while  their  convictions 
daily  deepened,  and  the  words  thrilled  through  their  hearts,  "  If 
any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take  up 
his  cross  daily,  and  follow  me."  It  was  cogitations  such  as  these 
that  so  fully  occupied  their  hearts,  that  it  was  seen  in  the 
sobriety  of  their  demeanor,  and  a  preoccupied  air,  which  was 
remarked  upon  by  all  their  neighbors  who  had  been  accustomed 
to  share  their  hospitality  and  gayety.  These  whispered,  one  to 
another,  that  something  must  have  happened ;  either  something 
was  wrong,  or  they  must  be  going  crazy. 

Among  their  neighbors  was  Mrs.  Candide,  whose  cottage  ornee 
was  about  a  mile  distant.  She  was  a  lady  who  had  been  very 
pretty ;  had  married  an  old  man  for  wealth,  and  lived  childless. 
She  was  envious  of  all  happy  wedded  wives ;  and,  having  no 
resources  in  herself,  no  love  of  books,  no  love  of  art,  and  no  love 
of  nature,  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  for  her  to 
make  mischief.  She  had  only  to  espress  to  her  neighbors,  in  a 
significant  tone,  her  hopes  "  that  no  domestic  infelicity  had  sad 
dened  the  circle  at  Hope  Cottage,"  and  by  degrees  a  story  of 
estrangement,  all  made  up,  little  by  little,  pervaded  the  circle  for 
six  miles  around.  "When,  therefore,  these  neighbors  came  to  make 
a  call,  and  witnessed  the  subdued  tone  of  conversation,  especially 


30  MODERN    PILGHIMS. 

in  Frank,  who  had  been  full  of  frolic,  the  belief  became  fixed  in 
the  minds  of  all. 

"  'T  is  a  thousand  pities !  "  said  Mrs.  Hardcastle  to  her  hus 
band,  as  they  drove  home  to  Ravenswood  from  a  visit  to  Hope 
Cottage. 

"  What  is  a  thousand  pities  ?  "  asked  the  old  captain,  who  was 
just  then  thinking  what  a  miss  his  daughter  Lydia  had  made  in 
not  winning  the  admiration  of  Frank,  who,  as  a  college-student, 
had  shown  himself  pleased  with  Lydia. 

"  Why,  that  Frank  Trueman  don't  live  happily  with  his  wife," 
said  Mrs.  Hardcastle,  who  had  gone  over  expressly  to  see  how 
matters  stood  with  her  own  eyes.  For,  unconsciously  to  herself, 
she  was  pleased  to  find  all  that  had  been  said  verified  by  personal 
observation  ;  for  she  had  a  feeling  of  resentment  that  the  admira 
tion  of  Frank,  as  a  boy,  to  a  young  girl,  had  not  ripened  into  love 
for  her  Lydia,  —  a  joyous,  buxom,  hoyden  girl,  whom  they  found 
it  hard  to  marry. 

"  Who  says  they  don't?  "  said  the  captain,  briskly.  "  I  see  no 
ground  for  the  infamous  rumor.  Did  you  ever  see  more  courtesy 
expressed,  and  so  sweetly  too,  by  that  gentle,  loving  wife  to 
Frank?  It  is  all  nature,  and  is  spoken  in  every  modulation  of 
her  voice,  and  every  glance  of  her  eye.  I  wish  to  heaven  there 
were  more  such  wives  in  the  world,  and  that  I  had  one  of  'em !  " 

"  Mr.  Hardcastle !  "  replied  his  lady,  with  most  marked  dis 
tinctness,  so  he  was  in  no  danger  of  losing  a  single  syllable  :  "  I 
have  been  your  wife  for  twenty-eight  years,  the  mother  of  six 
boys  and  three  daughters,  —  not  to  speak  more  particularly, — 
children  of  whom  you  are  proud,  as  you  may  well  be !  And  am  I 
to  be  spoken  to  in  this  way  ?  Such  a  wife  as  I  've  been  to  you, 


COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS.  31 

and  married  you  when  you  had  not  a  whole  coat  to  your  back,  in 
spite  of  everybody,  and  at  all  hazards !  " 

"  My  good  old  wife !  "  commenced  the  captain. 

"  I  am  not  old !  "  replied  Mrs.  Hardcastle. 

"  Well,  dear,  I  am  your  old  husband ;  you  can't  deny  that ; 
and,  all  I  want  to  say  to  you  is  just  this :  If  our  Lydia  had 
married  Frank,  as  we  once  thought  and  wished  would  happen, 
would  you  have  thought  it  kind  in  Mrs.  Candide  to  set  this  rumor 
afloat,  because,  for  some  reason,  we  know  not  what,  Frank's  spirits 
seem  all  gone,  and  a  general  sadness  pervades  the  circle  ?  How 
do  we  know  but  he  has  been  beguiled  into  an  endorsement  which 
may  have  brought  him  to  the  verge  of  ruin  ?  I  know,  for  certain, 
he  has  had  large  dealings  with  the  house  of  Cuttlefish  and  Dodge, 
who  have  all  gone  to  the  dogs,  and  won't  pay  ten  cents  on  a 
dollar." 

No  sooner  had  the  captain  ended  his  sayings,  than  it  was  all  as 
clear  as  daylight  to  Mrs.  Hardcastle,  and  she  said  to  herself, 
"  How  very  wicked  it  is  in  Mrs.  Candide  to  give  such  a  turn  to 
this  great  calamity !  —  A  bankrupt !  Poor  Frank !  I  am  really 
sorry  —  and  glad,  too,  that  Lydia  didn't  get  him.  Ah!  We 
never  know  what 's  best  for  us  !  "  and,  with  such  busy  thoughts, 
Mrs.  Hardcastle  was  kept  silent  till  they  reached  home. 

Mrs.  Hardcastle  was  a  warm  friend,  and  a  very  busy  woman ; 
and  "  she  made  a  conscience  of  it"  —  we  use  her  very  words  — 
to  go  round  the  neighborhood  to  correct  the  falsehoods  of  Mrs. 
Candide.  The  neighbors,  wives  and  mothers  especially,  all 
agreed  that  she  was  a  very  dangerous  woman,  and  that  hence 
forth  they  would  be  upon  their  guard  and  keep  away  from  her  as 
much  as  possible ;  the  which  every  lady  believed  to  be  the  duty 


32  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

of  her  next-door  neighbor,  though,  in  her  own  case,  she  thought 
it  best,  for  the  sake  of  neighborhood,  not  to  break  with  Mrs. 
Candide,  lest  she  too  should  be  victimized.  And  so  it  was 
Mrs.  Candide  never  guessed  of  the  change  that  had  come  over  her 
spotless  character.  But  one  neighbor  said  to  another,  about 
others,  who,  as  usual,  kept  up  Mrs.  Canclide's  acquaintance, 
"  Such  people  seem  friendly  ;  but,  whether  they  are  so,  who  can 
tell?"  Such  was  the  neighborhood  of  Hope  Cottage,  —  how 
very  like  other  neighborhoods  in  the  country !  How  soon  would 
all  these  rumors  have  been  silenced  by  a  renewal  of  the  dinners 
of  last  year,  and  the  pleasant  pic-nic  parties  our  friends  got  up 
with  such  liberality  and  success !  But,  all  this  while,  the  inmates 
of  Hope  Cottage  were  absorbed  by  great  thoughts ;  and,  by 
various  processes,  under  the  discipline  and  guidance  of  the  grace 
of  God,  they  formed  the  purpose  to  become  pilgrims  to  the 
Celestial  City. 

Mr.  Conscience  came  down ;  and  never  was  he  so  welcome  as 
now.  He  listened  patiently  to  all  they  had  to  say,  and  sought 
with  affectionate  sympathy  to  calm  Annie's  fears  as  to  the  perils 
and  trials  of  the  way ;  for  Annie  did  not  scruple  to  say  she  did 
not  like  to  leave  Babylon,  while  Gertrude  spoke  up, —  "lam 
willing  to  go  anywhere  with  Frank." 

"  0,  no  !  "  said  Mr.  Conscience  ;  "  suppose  Frank  should  lead 
you  into  the  world  of  sinful  pleasures  ?  " 

"  0,  then,"  said  Gertrude,  "  I  would  go  .and  win  him  back." 

"  You  are  an  angel !  "  exclaimed  Frank,  as  he  took  the  hand 
of  his  wife  and  drew  her  to  him. 

"  What  folly  !  "  said  Mr.  Conscience.  "  You  are  in  danger  of 
changing  your  mercies  into  idols,  and  worshipping  them !  " 


LIFE   AT  HOPE    COTTAGE.  33 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  said  Annie ;  "  not  a  bit  of  it !  If  you  were  to 
hear  Oliver  talk  to  me  sometimes  of  a  morning  about  my  wilful- 
ness,  —  yes !  my  wilfalness,"  said  Annie,  turning  to  her  husband, 
who  had  been  pulling  at  her  sleeve  to  stop  her,  —  "  you  never 
would  think  he  had  any  belief  in  my  divinity ;  and,  as  for  wor 
shipping  me,  bless  you !  there  's  not  a  girl  that  comes  here  in 
whom  he  does  n't  see  some  grace  he  finds  out  a  way  to  hint  to  mo 
for  my  especial  edification !  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  children,"  said  old  Mr.  Conscience,  "  I  cer 
tainly  wish  you  to  love  each  other  fondly,  and  with  all  constancy ; 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  actions  speak  louder  than  words." 

"What  do  you  say  to  this?"  said  Annie,  placing  her  arms 
round  her  husband's  neck  and  kissing  him,  and  then  looking  up 
with  an  air  of  triumph. 

Mr.  Conscience,  to  save  his  gravity,  rose  to  go. 

"Where  are  you  going,  sir?"  said  Annie,  as  he  was  making 
his  bow  and  leaving  the  house. 

"  I  have  something  to  say  to  Mrs.  Candide,"  replied  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  Please  say  to  her,  from  me,"  said  Annie,  "  that  you  have  my 
word  for  it,  if  Frank  and  Gertrude  don't  live  happily  together, 
that  Oliver  and  I  do." 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  asked  Frank,  as  Mr.  Conscience 

mounted  his  horse  and  rode  off. 

« 

"  Only  this,"  replied  Gertrude  :  "  Mrs.  Candide,  seeing  a  great 
change  had  come  over  us,  and  you  especially,  raised  a  report  that 
we  lived  unhappily  together ;  and  Miss  Spooner,  the  authoress, 
while  on  a  visit  to  her,  wrote  a  story  for  the  Ladies'  Magazine, 
entitled  '  The  Estrangement,'  all  about  us." 


34  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"  Is  not  that  grand  !  "  cried  Annie.  "  I  expect  to  be  shown  up 
in  the  next  number.  One  thing  I  know  :  unless  she  comes  into 
my  chamber-window  flying  on  a  broom-stick,  and  overhears 
Oliver's  curtain-lectures,  she  can't  say  we  are  not  as  happy  as 
cooing  doves." 

Oliver  laughed  at  his  happy  wife's  frolic,  and  here  the  matter 
dropped  and  was  forgotten. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

OUR   FRIENDS   RETURN    TO    THE    CITY. OF   MRS.   STANDTOLYES   AND 

HER    DAUGHTER   MISS   MIMOSA    STANDTOLYES'    VISIT. 

THE  woods  had  lost  their  golden  hues  and  orange  tints,  and 
the  deep  brown  of  winter  had  deprived  the  forest-trees  of  their 
beauty,  when  Mr.  Trueman  and  wife,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Outright, 
returned  to  the  city. 

Their  housekeeper,  aided  by  the  upholsterer  and  his  workmen, ' 
had  made  all  preparations  for  their  return  to  their  mansion-house 
on  the  Fifth  Avenue.  0  !  who  that  is  possessed  of  a  home,  but 
welcomes  the  breezes  of  coming  winter !  Who  does  not  rejoice 
in  the  pleasure  of  meeting  pleasant,  gay  and  happy  circles, 
around  the  centre-table,  where  the  sunshine  of  "  lamps  that  never 
burn  dim,"  and  the  warmth  of  the  cheerful  fire,  are  in  beautiful 
contrast  with  the  clear,  cold,  wintry  sky  without !  And  who  that 
is  new  to  life  but  looks  to  the  approach  of  winter  with  pleasing 
hopes  of  new  friendships,  of  new  purposes,  and  new  plans !  — 


MRS.    AND   MISS  STANDTOLYES.  35 

while,  to  the  gay  world,  the  grand  party,  the  opera,  the  theatre 
and  the  assembly,  are  full  of  gayety  and  life. 

Our  friends  were  happy  once  more  to  be  in  Babylon,  —  to  hear 
the  roll  of  equipages ;  to  open  morning  papers  at  the  breakfast- 
table  wet  from  the  press ;  to  meet  with  mutual  friends,  and  to 
hear  of  their  happiness,  —  what  they  had  done,  and  what  they 
hoped  to  do. 

A  very  few  days  after  their  arrival,  Miss  Julia  Van  Dyke  and 
her  sister  Euphemia  Van  Dyke  called  in  their  carriage,  accom 
panied  by  a  foreign  gentleman,  whose  mustache  was  perfect,  his 
dress  finically  fine,  and  with  an  excess  of  jewelry.  Miss  Julia 
presented  him  to  our  ladies  as  Count  Elie  de  Gassiot.  He  was 
received  with  all  that  ceremony  which  assured  that  gentleman  he 
would  be  kept  at  the  extremest  distance  the  laws  of  courtesy  per 
mitted.  The  count  strove  to  be  witty,  but  our  ladies  could  not 
get  up  a  smile ;  and  Miss  Julia,  evidently  piqued,  took  off  her 
count  to  try  the  value  of  her  endorsement  of  an  unknown  for 
eigner  into  the  home  circle  of  other  friends. 

As  the  Van  Dykes  were  leaving,  Mrs.  Mortimer  Standtolyes 
and  her  sensitive  daughter  Miss  Mimosa  Standtolyes  entered. 
No  joy  could  be  more  warmly  expressed  by  the  nearest  friend 
than  by  Mrs.  S.  One  would  have  believed  the  friendship  had 
been  the  growth  of  years ;  but  it  was  not  so,  for  an  exchange  of 
calls  last  year  was  all  they  knew  of  each  other.  This  lady 
belonged  to  the  ultra  upper  circle,  in  the  right  of  her  family, 
who  had  held  a  high  rank  for  a  century  in  the  city.  For 
some  good  reason,  she  had  determined  this  season  to  enlarge 
her  circle  by  patronizing  these  young  people.  Their  wealth 
was  undoubted;  and  the  great  parties  and  charming  dinners 


6b  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

of  their  first  winter  had  been  highly  spoken  of;  and  for  these, 
and  other  reasons  known  only  to  herself,  she  determined  to 
be  intimate  for  the  winter  at  the  Trueman  house.  Mrs.  Stand- 
tolyes  was  a  woman  of  fifty;  but  her  eyes,  teeth,  and  com 
plexion,  were  all  in  such  fine  preservation,  that  no  one  could 
have  believed  her  yet  forty.  Miss  Mimosa  was  her  youngest 
daughter ;  the  others  were  all  married  away  out  of  the  city ;  and, 
in  order  to  increase  her  infantile  appearance,  though  full  seven 
teen,  she  still  wore  pantalettes.  Her  voice  was  as  simple  as  her 
dress ;  and,  if  it  would  have  been  best,  she  could  have  "  died  of  a 
rose  in  aromatic  pain  "  at  a  moment's  warning. 

The  mother,  followed  by  her  daughter,  came  in,  all  of  a  breeze 
of  delight  to  meet  again  Mrs.  Trueman  and  Mrs.  Outright,  and 
talked  with  fluency  of  all  she  had  done  and  seen  during  her  visits 
at  the  Springs  and  at  the  Ocean  House ;  and,  though  she  assumed 
an  air  of  virtuous  indignation  in  the  recital  of  what  she  saw  there, 
it  was  evident  her  imagination  was  like  a  troubled  sea,  whose 
waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.  While  Mrs.  Standtolyes  was  in 
full  current  of  conversation,  Frank  and  Oliver  entered,  and  that 
lady  greeted  their  coming  with  many  pleasant  allusions  to  her 
former  relations  to  their  parents,  and  to  the  pleasure  she  felt  in 
renewing  this  acquaintance  with  their  sons  and  their  lovely  wives, 
while  Miss  Mimosa's  sweet  smiles  and  approving  nods  came  in  as 
so  many  responses.  Our  gentlemen  were  extremely  cold ;  and 
the  lady's  eye,  with  lynx-eyed  keenness,  watched  Frank  and 
Oliver,  exchanging  a  glance  full  of  meaning  with  her  daughter. 
Mrs.  Standtclyes,  recovering  the  thread  of  her  discourse,  spoke 
of  the  new  customs  introduced  at  the  Ocean  House ;  and  Miss 
Mimosa,  thinking  the  time  had  come  for  her  to  shine,  expressed 


MRS.    STANDTOLYES   VISITS  MRS.    CANDIDE.  37 

herself  shocked  at  the  impropriety  of  ladies  going  out  into  the 
surf  with  gentlemen,  and  especially  by  moonlight. 

"  What  harm  can  come  of  it?  "  asked  Oliver. 

Whereupon  Miss  Mimosa  went  into  such  a  description  of  the 
embarrassments  arising  from  playing  with  the  wild  waves, 
that  Gertrude  felt  her  cheeks  burning;  and  Frank  broke  in 
upon  the  enumeration  of  the  lady-bathers  and  their  guardians 
by  asking  Miss  Mimosa  how  she  came  to  be  so  well  ac 
quainted  with  all  these  matters,  if  she  herself  had  not  been  one 
of  them. 

"0,"  said  the  mother,  to  save  the  girl  from  making  the  reply, 
"  it  was  in  everybody's  mouth,  and  nothing  was  talked  of  at  the 
Ocean  House  but  bathing  and  waltzing." 

"  Do  you  waltz,  Miss  Mimosa?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Only  with  Fred,"  replied  Miss  Mimosa,  with  an  air  of 
extreme  modesty. 

"  And  who  is  Fred  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  Fred !  0,  he 's  my  cousin  !  "  replied  Miss  Mimosa. 

The  visit  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  Mrs.  Standtolyes,  as 
she  entered  her  carriage,  ordered  the  servant  to  drive  to  Mrs. 
Canclide's.  Something  rested  upon- her  mind  which  she  could  not 
analyze  as  to  this  visit,  and  she  determined  to  see  her  friend  Mrs. 
Candide  next.  .After  the  usual  courtesies  were  over,  she  told 
Mrs.  Candide  she  had  just  made  a  call  at  the  Truemans' ;  and  as 
she  had  hoped  it  would  be,  so  it  was. 

"  Ah,  have  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Candide ;  "  and  have  you  read  the 
tale  written  about  them  ?  " 

"  Not  a  line  of  it !  "  replied  Mrs.  S.,  earnestly ;  "  pray  tell  me 
all  about  it.     What  is  it  called  ?  " 
4 


38  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"It  is  called  'The  Estrangement,'"  replied  Mrs.  Candide. 
"  Did  you  see  nothing  like  it  ?  "  asked  that  lady. 

"  Who  are  the  guilty  parties  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Standtolyes. 

"  I  don't  know  of  any  guilt,"  replied  Mrs.  Candide ;  "  but  it 
is  said  that  a  French  teacher  was  inclined  to  enact  the  part  of 
Abelard.  It  is  so  in  the  story." 

"  Mother,"  exclaimed  Miss  Mimosa,  "  did  n't  you  see  how 
coldly  Mr.  Trueman  treated  his  wife  on  coming  into  the  parlor? 
—  She  so  glad  to  see  him  enter,  and  he  so  cold,  and  almost 
repulsive  !  I  thought  something  had  happened !  " 

"  Surely,  surely,"  cried  Mrs.  S.,  "  and  so  did  I ;  but  I  thought 
it  was  at  seeing  us  there.  But  now  it  is  all  cleared  up." 

And  when  Mrs.  Standtolyes  left,  Mrs.  Candide  loaned  her  the 
magazine,  and  begged  that  lady  not  to  speak  of  it  "  as  from  her ;  " 
and  they  parted  equally  happy,  —  each  having  the  other  for 
authority  of  a  whispered  rumor  of  estrangement  in  the  family  of 
one  whose  only  crime  was  in  withholding,  during  the  last  season, 
invitations  to  these  ladies,  and  which  in  their  secret  hearts  they 
had  set  down  as  an  affront,  for  which,  if  not  repented  of  this 
season,  they  would  in  due  time  take  their  revenge.  Now  we 
will  return  to  our  family  circle. 

"  I  abhor  that  woman !  "  exclaimed  Frank ;  "  she  is  dark, 
designing,  and  depraved !  " 

"  Why,  Frank  !  "  cried  Gertrude.  "  Pray,  what  evil  has  she 
done?  —  any  to  you.  to  Oliver,  to  Annie,  or  to  me  ?  " 

"  No,  dearest !  "  said  Frank,  "  we  are  out  of  her  reach ;  but 
she  is  a  bad  woman." 

"  This  is  very  novel  in  you,  Frank  !"  said  Annie.  "  Now,  tell 
us  on  what  grounds  you  judge ;  for  I.  won't  allow  myself  to  be 
influenced  even  by  you." 


OP  MISS  MIMOSA   STANDTOLYES.  39 

"  Nor  do  I  desire  you  to  prejudice  your  mind,"  said  Frank. 

"  Well,  then,  please  help  us  out  of  this  labyrinth,"  said  Annie. 

"  I  don't  like  her  looks,"  said  Gertrude.  "  There  's  something 
cold  even  in  her  warmth ;  something  sinister  in  her  eye ;  and  I  felt 
happy  when  she  was  gone.  Some  unhappy  influence  rested  on  my 
spirits  in  her  presence,  which  I  could  neither  shake  off  nor  define." 

"  Let  me  help  you,  my  dear  cousin,"  said  Frank.  "  This  lady 
is  full  of  compliments,  gracefully  expressed ;  they  come  tripping 
off  her  tongue,  and  show  the  freedom  attained  only  by  frequent 
repetition.  This  lady  and  her  child  may  have  never  read  La 
Rouchfecault's  maxims ;  or,  if  they  have,  they  think  those  before 
them  at  the  time  unable  to  discover  their  cheatery.  Now,  mark 
this :  whenever  you  see  a  woman  who  receives  with  avidity  tales 
of  scandal,  who  has,  in  one  word,  a  poor  opinion  of  her  sex,  then 
be  sure  you  have  in  your  presence  one  whose  heart  is  the  home 
of  sensuality.  One  single  glance  of  her  eye  stamps  her  as  dark 
and  dishonest." 

"  A  simple  glance,  Frank !  "  said  Gertrude. 

"  Yes,  a  single  glance,"  continued  Frank.  "  And  then,  if  I 
wanted  proof  of  her  character,  piled  Pelion  upon  Ossa,  I  could 
find  it  in  that  glib-tongued  young  lady,  the  counterpart  of  her 
mother." 

"  I  thought,  Frank,  j^ou  were  almost  rude  to  her  in  the  abrupt 
inquiry  you  made,"  said  his  wife. 

"I  designed  to  put  an  end  to  her  deluge  of  scandal,"  said 
Frank,  —  "her  last  recitation,  I  hope,  here.  She  to  talk  of 
waltzing  with  her  Cousin  Fred !  Now,  Ned  Hardcastle  told  me 
he  has  been  at  the  Ocean  House,  on  a  visit  to  his  cousins,  the 
Yan  Dykes,  and  stayed  there  a  month,  hoping  to  save  Julia  from 


40  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

that  gew-gaw  of  a  count,  whom  I  saw  in  the  carriage  with  her 
this  morning " 

"He  has  been  here  with  Julia  this  morning,"  interrupted 
Gertrude. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said  Frank,  and  went  on.  "  Julia  is  a 
good  girl,  and  will  come  to  her  senses  before  the  winter  is  over. 
But,  to  return  to  this  young  sensitive  plant ;  young  Hardcastle 
told  me  she  was  bathing  every  day,  by  sunshine  and  moonlight, 
with  that  young  mittionnaire,  Tom  Greatrake,  and  her  mother 
sitting  in  her  carriage  on  the  beach,  a  half  mile  off!  and  here, 
without  the  slightest  change  of  color,  or  deflection  of  tone,  she 
tells  us  she  never  bathed  in  company  with  gentlemen,  and  never 
waltzed,  except  with  Fred,  '  Cousin  Fred ! ' —  a  sweet  nut  for  the 
devil  to  crack  !  " 

The  ladies  rose  and  ran  upon  Frank,  and  stopped  his  mouth, 
crying  "  He  is  crazy !  "  So  strange  did  it  seem  now  for  Frank 
to  say  such  odd  sayings,  which  had  before  been  as  familiar  to 
him  as  breathing.  But  we  must  explain  how  all  this  happened. 

Frank  had  met  on  his  way  up  town  an  old  friend,  who 
seemed  embarrassed  in  his  inquiries  about  his  family ;  and  Frank 
asked  him  "  what  he  meant  by  all  this  round-about  way  of  asking 
of  the  health  of  his  wife,  and  Annie,  and  Oliver ; "  when  his 
friend,  relieved  by  the  honest,  unconscious  air  of  Frank,  said : 
"  My  dear  Trueman,  I  came  to  town  a  day  or  two  since,  and  was 
told  that  some  difficulty  had  taken  place  between  you  and  your 
wife,  and  that  a  separation  was  hinted  at.  Now,  you  see  my 
cause  of  embarrassment." 

"  Thank  God  !  "  exclaimed  Frank,  "  this  is  as  new  to  me  as  to 
you.  Ah !  I  do  now  recollect  to  have  heard  of  a  tale  in  the 


TILE   TALE    OF    "THE   ESTRANGEMENT."  -      41 

Ladies'  Magazine,  which  has  been  thought  applicable  to  me  and 
m j  wife ;  but  I  really  was  so  occupied  at  the  moment  with  other 
matters  that  I  supposed  it  was  confined  to  the  neighborhood  of 
our  cottage,  and  in  the  circle  of  our  country  neighbors." 

Frank  was  enlightened  at  once  when  he  was  told  this  tale  of 
"  The  Estrangement,"  with  marginal  notes,  had  been  extensively 
circulated  at  the  Springs  and  various  watering-places,  leaving  no 
room  for  mistake  as  to  the  persons  referred  to. 

"  This  is  some  of  Mrs.  Candide's  labors  of  love ;  or,  perhaps, 
some  such  Thersites  in  petticoats  as  Mrs.  Standtolyes,  or  Miss 
Prudence  Bramble,  whom  I  have  kept  at  arm's  length,  and  mean 
to  do  so." 

"  Invite  them  all  to  your  next  party,  or  make  a  grand  dinner 
for  them  all,"  replied  his  friend,  "  and  they  will  unite  in  one 
voice,  like  a  pack  of  hounds,  and  run  the  scandal  down  as 
cheerfully  as  they  have  scared  it  up." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  advice,"  said  Frank  ;  "  but  I  will  "  — 
he  paused  —  "  think  of  it." 

His  friend  saw  him  on  the  brink  of  an  explosion,  and,  laugh 
ing  at  his  suppressed  anger,  shook  the  hand  of  Frank,  and 
promising  to  call  and  see  his  lady  that  very  evening,  passed  on. 
Frank,  returning  homewards,  met  Oliver  walking  in  the  square, 
collecting  leaves  for  his  herbarium,  and  in  a  great  fever  Frank 
told  him  of  what  he  had  just  heard.  Oliver,  calm  as  a  summer's 
morning,  thought  it  was  hardly  worth  repeating,  and  said  : 

"  So  long  as  we  are  in  society,  Cousin  Frank,  we  must  expect 
such  little  expressions  of  vexation  from  those,  who,  in  some  way 
or  other,  are  slighted  by  us,  or  who   claim  to  be  so.     This   is 
one  way  such  people  take  to  be  revenged  for  our  neglect." 
4* 


42  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

It  was  in  such  a  state  of  mind  as  this  that  our  Frank  and 
Oliver  entered  the  parlor,  and  there  found  Mrs.  and  Miss 
Standtolyes. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE   MANNER   IN    'WHICH    THE   TIDINGS    OF    THE    INTENDED   PILGRIM 
AGE   IS   RECEIVED   BY   THEIR   FASHIONABLE   FRIENDS. 

THE  "  gay  season  "  opened  with  its  scores  of  parties.  To  all 
these  our  friends  were  duly  invited ;  but  they  politely  declined. 
They  had  purposed  passing  the  winter  quietly  at  home.  This 
was  not  so  easily  done  as  determined  upon.  Their  friends  came 
around  them  with  remonstrances  against  such  a  course  as  very 
unwise ;  it  was  so  very  marked.  They  were  told,  by  their  par 
ticularly  amiable  acquaintances,  that  if  they  did  so  it  would  go 
far  to  confirm  all  that  had  been  whispered  of  family  troubles  by 
the  gossips  of  Babylon ;  and  that  Frank  and  his  wife  must  live 
down  the  slander  by  being  seen  in  society,  as  they  had  been  seen 
last  winter. 

All  this  had  been  talked  over  to  Frank  one  day,  by  Mrs. 
Smith  Bryant,  one  of  the  sparkling  ladies  of  the  day,  who 
thought  it  a  thousand  pities  society  should  be  deprived  of  the 
presence  of  such  pleasant  people. 

Frank  replied :  "  I  have  ceased  to  care  what  the  world  thinks 
or  says  of  me,  or  of  my  family.  We  are  in  it,  to  be  sure,  but 


MRS.   SMITH   BKYANT.  43 

not  of  it ;  and  it  is  our  purpose  to  go  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
Celestial  City." 

"  A  pilgrimage  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Smith  Bryant.  "  What  folly  ! 
Are  you  an  old  man,  without  fortune,  that  you  should  think  of  such 
a  thing  ?  But  why  leave  Babylon  ?  You  have  only  to  book  your 
self  at  the  Oxford  office  ;  or,  if  you  please,  get  letters  of  natural 
ization  from  the  Bishop  of  Melipotamus,  and  it  is  just  as  well  as 
if  you  should  go  all  the  way  on  your  hands  and  knees." 

"  I  shall  go  as  the  Guide-book  directs.  I  shall  never  trust  my 
eternal  destiny  upon  any  devices  of  the  sort  you  speak  of," 
replied  Frank. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Trueman,  where  did  you  get  such  fantastical 
notions  ?  I  pray  heaven  your  lady  has  not  been  drinking  of  the 
same  fountain ! " 

"  We  have  but  one  heart  in  this  matter,"  said  Frank. 

The  news  went  the  rounds,  after  the  first  grand  party  was 
given,  that  the  family  of  Mr.  Trueman  had  withdrawn  from 
society.  It  was  regarded  as  a  great  grievance,  and  to  be  com 
plained  of  as  such.  The  dinners  and  parties  given  by  Frank 
during  the  last  season,  though  very  select,  were  reputed  to  be 
the  best  in  all  that  constitutes  charming  society ;  and  there  was 
not  a  family  of  rank,  who,  as  they  listened  to  the  reports  of 
these  pleasant  parties  at  the  Trueman  mansion,  did  not  purpose 
with  Mrs.  Standtolyes  to  stand  on  the  list  of  those  to  whom 
an  invitation  could  this  year  be  sent.  Indeed,  the  world  up 
town  had  confidently  counted  upon,  at  least,  two  grand  parties 
in  that  house  during  the  season.  It,  therefore,  became  a  matter 
of  remark  and  regret  —  such  sympathy  as  is  only  felt  in  the 
world  of  fashion  when  bereavement  compels  wealthy  families, 


44  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

at  the  opening  of  a  season,  on  note-paper  edged  with  black, 
to  express  their  regrets  while  they  decline  invitations  received. 

"  I  believe  that  story  of  the  Estrangement  is  true,  and  explains 
the  true  cause  of  all  this  seclusion,"  said  Miss  Arniine  Golightly 
to  her  aunt  Mrs.  General  Montgomery. 

"  Poor  lady !  "  replied  the  aunt,  a  lady  of  forty-five,  and  who 
was  a  leader  of  ton,  "  she 's  greatly  to  be  pitied.  I  felt  sure 
she  would  create  a  sensation  so  soon  as  her  innocent  soul  had 
become  satisfied  with  her  husband's  attentions,  and  her  vanity 
woke  up  her  powers  of  fascination.  She  is  capable  of  doing  a 
great  deal  of  mischief,  if  she  could  only  gain  the  pose  requisite  to 
make  her  beauty  effective.  And,  too,  't  is  said  Annie  Outright 
and  her  husband  have  declined  every  invitation  yet  out." 

"  Now,  that  astonishes  me,"  said  Miss  Golightly,  "  for  she 
seems  made  for  society,  and  to  be  in  her  element  when  surrounded 
by  gayety ;  and  how  she  can  consent  to  mope  all  these  long 
winter's  nights  in  the  chimney-corner,  snuffing  ashes,  in  company 
with  her  penitential  cousins,  is  past  all  my  comprehension.  You 
will  see  she  won't  stand  it ;  and  I  mean  to  help  her  out  of  her 
prison-house.  As  for  your  favorite,  Mrs.  Trueman,  my  dear  aunt, 
she  is  pretty,  and  sometimes  forgets  herself  in  conversation,  and 
then  she  is  beautiful.  But,  for  the  most  part,  she  is  so  reserved, 
that  her  best  recommendation  in  society  is  her  elegant  house  and 
her  handsome  husband.  I  meant  to  have  experimented  on  him 
myself  this  winter !  " 

"  You  did  !  "  said  Mrs.  General  Montgomery.  —  "  You  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  did,  in  a  quiet  way !  "  replied  the  niece ;  "just 
to  see  if  I  couldn't  make  him  feel  there  were  at  least  two 
attractive  women  in  the  world !  Do  you  know,  Aunty,  I  never 


MISS   GOLIGIITLY  AND   IIEll   AUNT.  45 

sec  a  man  in  love  with  his  wife  but  I  feel  he  throws  down  his 
glove  and  dares  all  the  ladies  in  his  circle  to  the  contest.  Now, 
then,  I  was  fully  determined  to  try  the  temper  of  his  steel ;  for  I 
think  it  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  all  excitements  to  lead  a 
man  like  Frank  Trueman  into  a  labyrinth  in  which  he  does  n't 
know  how  to  go  on,  or  how  to  get  out ;  —  and  the  more  of  con 
science  he  has  the  better ;  —  to  witness  his  attempts  to  break 
away ;  and  then  the  joy  of  abandonment  to  the  fascinations  of  the 
moment !  0,  it  is  too  sweet !  " 

"  My  dear  niece,"  replied  Mrs.  General  Montgomery,  "  I  am  a 
little  fearful  for  you.  You  may  go  too  far,  and  find  yourself 
ensnared,  when  you  only  think  of  ensnaring ;  and,  too,  I  should 
dread  the  loss  of  your  hold  on  Major  Hardcastle.  Men  are 
jealous,  and  mischief-making  women  are  all  around  you,  who  hold 
the  pen  of  ready  writers,  and  can  tell  tales  upon  you.  And  then 
his  brother  Ned  is  in  society,  and  the  old  man  and  wife  are  on 
the  alert  in  all  matters  affecting  their  son's  happiness." 

t( That's  very  true,"  replied  the  young  lady;  "but  I  told 
Hardcastle  I  would  flirt  when  he  was  away,  and  he  understands 
that  perfectly." 

"  Wait  until  you  are  married,  dear,"  replied  the  aunt. 

"  Ah,  that  will  be  too  late  !  "  said  Miss  Golightly.  "  Hard 
castle  is  not  the  man  to  allow  me  any  sort  of  license  after  the 
knot  is  tied.  I  expect  to  be  under  martial  law  from  that  day 
onward ;  and  so  you  see,  Aunty,  I  mean  to  *  make  hay  while  the 
sun  shines.'  And,  too,  I  consider  it  as  a  special  offence  done  to 
me  by  Mrs.  Frank  Trueman,  to  keep  her  husband  out  of  the 
sphere  of  my  attractions.  I  will  yet  get  into  that  circle ;  and, 
if  by  no  other  means,  I  will  turn  saint  along  with  them  all !  " 


46  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  It  won't  be  the  first  time  spirits  of  darkness  have  worn  the 
robes  of  angels  of  light ! "  said  the  aunt. 

"  0  !  how  can  you  say  such  things,  Aunty !  You  know  it  is  a 
common  cause  to  break  in  upon  this  charmed  circle,  to  dispel 
their  illusions,  and  bring  back  to  life  the  beautiful  women  and 
bright  gentlemen  who,  by  some  strange  influence,  have  been 
changed  to  stone.  I  do  believe  the  blood  circulates  warmly 
there;  and  I  hope  to  show  you  my  capacity  to  win  this  fine 
gentleman,  and  to  make  him  as  much  my  own  as  my  new  winter- 
bonnet  is  mine ! " 

Our  readers  will  now  see  the  state  of  feeling  in  fashionable 
circles  at  the  uncalled-for  closing  up  at  the  commencement  of 
a  season  of  one  of  the  handsomest  houses  in  Fifth  Avenue. 
For  such  a  mansion  to  be  closed  without  the  apology  of  a 
bereavement,  was  a  matter  of  general  marvel ;  and  when  their 
purpose  of  becoming  pilgrims  in  earnest  was  spoken  of,  the  circles 
up  town  were  at  a  loss  whether  they  were  most  to  be  censured  or 
pitied. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE   REV.  DOCTOR   UPATREE    VISITS   OUR    FRIENDS. 

THE  Hector  of  All  Saints,  the  Rev.  Doctor  Upatree,  hearing 
the  tidings  of  their  change  of  sentiments,  hastened  his  call  upon 
the  Truemans,  wishing  to  secure  to  the  church  all  the  advan 
tages  morbid  states  of  mind  supply  when  skilfully  managed. 


THE   REV.    DR.    UPATREE.  47 

He  was  a  tall  gentleman  of  forty-five,  whose  airy  manner 
on  the  sidewalk  would  have  been  befitting  a  young  man.  The 
white  band  around  his  neck  was  nicely  starched,  and,  as  a  cleric, 
his  dress  was  faultless.  The  coat  was  buttoned  close  up  to  the 
chin,  and  its  long  skirts  draggled  down  to  his  heels,  after  a  truly 
Catholic  fashion.  His  mien  was  imperious,  especially  in  the 
desk,  where  his  method  of  reading  prayers  was  in  so  patronizing 
a  style,  it  was  .clearly  seen  that,  in  his  view,  the  Almighty  God 
was  under  the  highest  obligation  to  him  for  his  condescension. 
0,  it  is  painful  to  witness  such  a  rehearsal  of  the  most  perfect 
and  appropriate  ritual  of  public  worship  in  all  the  world ;  —  a 
ritual  demanding,  in  every  act  and  every  prayer,  an  unction  from 
the  Holy  One.  Such  a  ritual  is  heaven-high  above  such  men, 
who  enter  the  sanctuary  but  to  repeat  the  sins  of  Nadab  and 
Abihu,  of  Uzzah  and  Uzziah. 

The  ladies  were  at  home,  and  received  the  doctor  with  dis 
tinguished  courtesy.  After  other  topics  had  been  spoken  of, 
Doctor  Upatree,  in  his  quick,  authoritative  tone,  addressing 
himself  to  Gertrude,  said  : 

"  I  am  extremely  happy  to  hear  you  purpose  to  unite  yourself 
'to  the  church,  in  view  of  a  future  pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial 
City.  As  it  is  my  happiness  to  hold  the  records  containing  the 
pledge  made  by  your  sponsors  and  parents  at  the  altar  on  your 
behalf  in  holy  baptism,  I  have  deemed  it  my  special  duty  to  call 
upon  you  at  this  time." 

Gertrude  replied,  meekly :  "  It  is  our  purpose  to  commence 
our  pilgrimage  early  in  the  spring." 

"  Do  you  contemplate  anything  more  than  your  registration  at 
the  office  for  seats  in  the  Oxford  line  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Upatree. 


48  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"  0,  yes !  "  said  Gertrude ;  "  we  mean  to  set  out  on  our  travel 
for  the-  Celestial  City." 

"By  all  means,  —  by  all  means !"  replied  the  doctor;  "but 
you  can  only  go  over  our  bridge  by  taking  your  seats  in  our 
coaches.  Ours  is  the  only  apostolical  bridge  crossing  '  Spuyting 
Teufel  Creek ; '  you  don't  need  me  to  tell  you  this." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  we  shall  go  over  your  bridge,  or  any 
bridge,"  replied  Gertrude. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  doctor,  with  some  severity,  "  you  are  little 
fitted  for  a  pilgrimage  not  to  know  everything  depends  on  the 
first  step.  — '  C'est  le  premier  pas  qui  cotite.'  It  is  of  stupen 
dous  importance.  Not  to  go  over  our  bridge,  is  to  fail  of  reaching 
the  end  of  your  journey.  Let  me  tell  you  there  is  but  one  way, 
one  road ;  and  that  way,  in  all  its  length,  is  under  the  super 
vision  of  the  church  and  its  curators.  You  may  go,  as  thousands 
go,  by  some  way  of  man's  devising ;  but  what  is  the  end  ?  —  ay, 
madam,  the  end  !  " 

"  What  do  you  think  of  letters  of  naturalization,  which  are 
offered  to  pilgrims  by  the  Bishop  of  Melipotamus,  in  partibus  ?  " 
asked  Annie,  who  was  provoked  by  the  tone  and  manner  of  Dr. 
Upatree. 

"  Madam !  "  replied  the  doctor,  "  I  have  the  highest  respect  for 
that  eminent  prelate,  and  for  the  church  to  which  he  is  attached, 
—  an  apostolic  church,  madam ;  but  I  must  say,  the  letters  you 
.  speak  of  have  never,  as  yet,  been  recognized  by  our  House  of 
Bishops,  and  I  cannot  commit  myself  to  speak  concerning  them. 
But  I  think  all  they  secure  to  you  may  as  certainly  be  secured  in 
our  communion  as  theirs.  As  for  the  pilgrimage,  it  is  all  very 
well.  You  can  go  as  far  as  Vanity  Fair,  —  a  city  well  worth  a 


OF    CHURCH    DUTIES.  49 

visit,  —  and,  if  you  please,  remain  there  for  a  while ;  and  then, 
on  your  return  to  Babylon,  give  yourself  up  to  your  church 
duties ;  and,  when  the  time  of  your  departure  comes,  you  can  go 
to  the  Celestial  City  by  our  fast  line,  which  we  *  express '  at  a 
half-hour's  notice,  if  need  be." 

"  What  are  these  church  duties  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"And  are  you  ignorant  of  them,  madam?  Your  cousin  ought 
to  have  told  you  ere  this,  by  her  example  at  least,  that  these  are 
matins  and  vespers,  fasting  on  Fridays,  and  keeping  Lent.  It  is 
in  the  sacraments  of  the  church  that  she  conveys  the  salvation  of 
souls  to  all  who  drink  the  milk  her  bosom  supplies." 

Annie  was  greatly  inclined  to  push  this  figure,  so  frequently 
used  by  such  divines,  to  its  absurdity ;  but,  putting  herself  under 
restraint,  she  asked  if  this  was  all  the  church  required. 

It  was  evident  the  doctor  was  a  little  puzzled,  and  at  a  loss  how 
to  reply. 

"  We  think  it  best  to  withdraw  ourselves  from  the  theatre,  and 
balls,  and  the  opera,  during  Lent ;  but  we  are  happy  to  give  our 
countenance  to  all  social  circles,  and  to  consecrate  by  our  blessing 
the  social  feast." 

"Doctor,  will  you  dine  with  us  to-morrow?"  said  Annie; 
"  our  husbands  will  be  most  happy  to  see  you,  and  you  can  talk 
to  them  fully  on  this  subject:  it  is  one  of  common  interest 
to  us." 

"With  great  pleasure,"  replied  the  doctor,  rising;  and,  with  a 
gratified  bow  and  pastoral  presentation  of  the  hand  to  the  ladies, 
he  withdrew. 

"  What  could  induce  you  to  bring  him  here  to-morrow  ?  "  said 

Gertrude. 

5 


50  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

"  0,  it  was  to  see  how  he  and  my  dear  old  pastor,  Doctor 
Goodwin,  will  get  on  together." 

I1  1  am  sure  Frank  won't  like  it,"  said  Gertrude  ;  "  and  I  don't 
think  it  kind  in  you  ;  nor  do  I  believe  Oliver  will  like  it." 

"  Pish  !  "  said  Annie  ;  "  what  do  I  care  !  " 

And  Gertrude  was  right  ;  for,  when  the  gentlemen  returned, 
and  were  told  of  Doctor  Upatree's  call,  and  of  Annie's  invitation 
for  him  to  dine  with  Doctor  Goodwin,  Oliver  spoke  :  "  You 
gypsy  !  what  spirit  of  mischief  could  have  prompted  you  to  such 
a  thought  ?  " 

Frank  said  :  "It  will  never  do  to  bring  these  adverse  parties 
together  ;  it  will  be  a  mortal  offence  to  both.  And  it  is  wanting 
in  courtesy  to  Doctor  Goodwin,  who  has  so  kindly  notified  us  of 
his  intention  to  dine  with  us  to-morrow." 

"  The  mischief  is  done,  and  we  must  abide  by  it  !  "  said  Annie, 


"  It  is  far  more  serious  than  you  can  be  made  to  see,"  said 
Frank,  seriously  ;  "  and  I  can't  consent  to  make  my  table  a  snare 
to  any  one.  This  must  be  remedied,  at  all  hazards  and  at  every 
sacrifice,  however  awkward  it  may  be." 

"Dear  cousin,"  said  Annie,  "don't  be  so  grave;  wait  a  min 
ute,  and  I  will  show  you  a  way  of  escape."  And  she  skipped  off 
into  the  library  room,  and  soon  returned  with  the  following  note, 
addressed  to  Rev.  Dr.  Upatree  : 

"  Fifth  Avenue,  Monday. 

"  REV.  AND  DEAR  SIR  :  I  must  pray  your  pardon  for  not 
saying  to  you,  at  the  moment  of  inviting  you  to  dine  with  us 
to-morrow,  that  the  Rev.  Dr.  Goodwin  had  notified  my  cousin, 


51 


Mr.  Trueman,  of  his  purpose  to  dine  with  us.  I  deem  it  due  to 
you,  sir,  so  to  advise  you.  And,  if  it  shall  better  please  you, 
will  you  name  a  day  when  it  will  be  agreeable  to  you  to  favor 
us  with  your  company  ?  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Trueman  and  my  husband 
unite  in  sentiments  of  respectful  consideration. 

"ANNIE  OUTRIGHT." 

"  There !"  said  Annie,  as  she  held  up  the  note  in  triumph; 
"  there  is  the  gordian  knot  cut  by  the  stroke  of  a  pen  !  " 

The  note  was  instantly  dispatched;  and  during  dinner  their 
servant  brought  back  the  following  note  : 

"  The  Rev.  Dr.  Upatree  acknowledges  the  note  of  Mrs.  Out 
right  with  pleasure.  He  is  gratified  by  this  expressive  and  proper 
appreciation  of  the  relative  positions  held  in  society  by  himself 
and  Mr.  Goodwin.  For  this  gentleman,  as  a  scholar,  he  has  the 
highest  respect,  but  cannot  recognize  him  as  a  clergyman;  and 
not  to  do  so,  might  be  offensive  to  Mr.  Goodwin  and  embarrassing 
to  Mrs.  ,0atright.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Upatree  will  dine  with  his  par 
ishioners,  if  agreeable,  on  the  festival  day  of  the  Holy  Innocents. 

"St.  Thomas'  Day,  Parsonage." 

"  What  does  this  mean  ? "  said  Annie,  scrutinizing  the  seal. 
It  was  evidently  symbolical ;  but  how  to  interpret  the  symbol 
was  beyond  all  their  skill.  It  was  the  seal  of  the  Ecclesi- 
ological  Society  of  Babylon,  —  the  meaning  of  which  would  have 
surprised  our  friends,  had  they  guessed  it. 


52  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FRANK'S  INTERVIEW  WITH  ins  FATHER'S  PARTNER,  MR. 

TRUSTWORTHY. 

THE  dessert  being  on  the  table,  Frank  directed  the  servants  to 
retire.  "  I  have  this  day,"  said  Frank,  "  received  a  manifestation 
of  affection  which  has  greatly  gratified  me.  I  have  ordered  the 
servants  out  of  the  room  that  I  might  tell  it  you  alone.  It  seems 
that,  as  a  counter-rumor  of  the  cause  of  our  seclusion  from  soci 
ety,  there  has  been  told  a  story  of  my  being  involved  by  endorse 
ments  on  the  paper  of  Cuttlefish  and  Dodge,  and  that  my  for 
tunes  are  on  the  verge  of  ruin.  I  heard  of  this  a  month  since, 
and  it  helped  me  to  understand  the  shyness  of  some  of  my  friends 
in  Change  Alley.  It  was  only  yesterday  my  father's  friend  and 
partner,  old  Trustworthy,  returned  to  the  city  from  his  foreign 
tour ;  and,  as  he  made  instant  inquiry  after  us,  was  told  the  sad 
tidings  of  my  fallen  fortunes,  and  my  consequent  contemplated 
departure  from  Babylon.  His  informant  was  particular  and  con 
fident  ;  and  the  old  man  went  home,  as  he  told  me,  '  with  a  heart 
heavy  as  lead.'  lie  went  to  bed,  but  he  could  not  sleep  for 
thinking  about  me ;  and  the  recollections  of  my  father's  friend 
ship  came  up  before  him  so  vividly  that  he  could  not  sleep.  He 
rose  and  paced  the  room,  until,  as  he  said  to  me,  '  when  in  full 
view  of  all  I  could  do,  I  felt  myself  willing  to  do  all  I  could,  I 
lay  down  and  slept  with  the  quietness  of  a  young  baby,  and  woke 
at  early  dawn,  impatient  for  day.'  On  rising,  he  wrote  me  a 
note,  saying  he  wanted  to  see  me  at  ten  o'clock  at  his  banking- 


OLD  MR.  TRUSTWORTHY.  53 

house.  This  note  I  received  from  his  man  just  as  I  left  the  door, 
and  I  went  down  the  city,  supposing,  as  he  had  just  come  home, 
he  wanted  to  see  me,  as  has  been  his  custom.  *  My  dear  Frank ! ' 
said  the  old  man,  after  the  first  greetings  were  over, '  I  hope  I  am 
not  an  hour  too  late  to  serve  you !  Now,  my  dear  boy,  say,  will 
two  hundred  thousand  help  you  ?  How  much  do  you  need  to 
make  good  your  losses  ?  Whatever  the  sum  is,  you  shall  have  it ! 
I  know,  Frank,  what  I  offer;  I  know  my  ability;  and,  by 
George  !  I  can  do  it,  and  I  will ! '  These  sentences  came  out  in 
a  stream,  and,  astonished,  I  said  to  him  :  '  Why  should  you  make 
me  such  an  offer?  I  have  no  need  of  money.  I  am  richer  this 
day  by  thousands  than  when  you  placed  me  in  possession  of  my 
fortune  from  my  father ! ' —  '  Do  you  say  so,  Frank  ! '  exclaimed 
the  old  man,  with  delight.  —  '  I  do,  upon  my  honor,'  I  replied. 
—  <  Thank  God  !  —  thank  God !  I  was  told  by  Hookem  that  you 
were  on  the  point  of  breaking  up,  having  mixed  yourself  up  some 
how  with  those  swindling  scoundrels,  Cuttlefish  and  Dodge,  who 
have  sunk  in  a  sea  of  ink  and  infamy ! ' —  I  told  him  it  was 
true  their  paper  due  to  me,  to  a  large  amount,  lay  over  in  the 
banks ;  but  it  was  for  real  estate,  the  title  of  which  remained 
intact  with  me.  — '  So  you  don't  lose  by  them  ? '  said  Mr.  Trust 
worthy.  — '  Not  a  single  dollar ;  but  I  am  the  gainer  by  all  this, 
in  the  proof  of  your  love  to  me  for  my  father's  sake.' — '  For  your 
own,  Frank,  and  for  your  father's  sake,'  replied  the  old  man, 
taking  me  by  the  hand.  I  assured  him  this  was  one  of  the  hap 
piest  hours  in  my  life,  and  the  tears  in  the  old  man's  eyes  told 
the  depth  of  his  emotions.  At  this  moment  a  merchant  popped 
his  head  into  the  private  room  where  we  were  sitting,  and  said : 
1  What  will  you  take  a  ton  for  that  cargo  of  hemp  ?  '  The  old 


54  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

man  at  a  bound  rose  and  bade  me  *  good-by ; '  and  I  left  him  all 
absorbed  in  bargaining  and  selling,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  young 
man.  He  is  one  of  nature's  noblemen ;  and  I  thank  God  for  his 
great  goodness  in  giving  me  this  proof  of  the  nobility  of  man's 
nature." 

"  Dear  Frank !  it  is  delightful !  "  said  Annie. 

"  It  was  a  noble  expression  of  sympathy,"  said  Oliver. 

Gertrude  could  say  nothing ;  but  her  tears  told  how  much  her 
heart  had  been  affected  by  her  husband's  narrative. 


CHAPTER    X. 

OF    BABYLON   AND    ITS    SOCIETY. 

IT  was  said  of  ancient  Nineveh,  "  that  great  city,"  in  the  days 
of  Jonah,  as  significant  of  the  greatness  of  its  population,  that 
there  were  "  six-score  thousand  who  could  not  tell  their  right 
hands  from  their  left."  Now,  in  Babylon,  though  not  so  great  a 
city  as  ancient  Nineveh,  and  with  all  the  improvements  made  by 
statists,  no  reliable  census  could  ever  be  made  of  this  class ;  for, 
the  number  increased  from  noon  to  night,  and  diminished  from 
dawn  to  noon,  and  was  an  invariable  law  of  change  which  defied 
computation;  and,  too,  this  constituted  a  class  of  innocents 
peculiar  to  modern  times. 

Babylon  was  the  great  mart  of  commerce,  and  the  monetary 
centre  of  the  continent.  Merchant  princes  and  bankers  had  built 


THE  RULING  PASSION  IX  BABYLOX.  55 

up  the  upper  section  of  the  city  in  palaces  of  red  sandstone  and 
patent  brick,  and  their  country-seats  were  seen  lining  the  banks 
of  the  river,  —  peeping  out  from  every  shady  nook,  and  crown 
ing  every  height  around  the  city,  for  a  wide  circuit  of  miles. 

The  ruling  passion  of  these  people  was  money-making,  and 
this  was  followed,  as  it  must  ever  be,  with  a  love  of  money- 
spending.  And  here  lay  the  test  of  classes  existing  among 
Babylonians.  At  the  mart  they  made  no  distinction  by  what 
means  money  was  made,  —  whether  in  rags  imported  from 
Smyrna,  or  these  rags  nicely  made  into  thin  paper,  bearing  vig 
nettes  of  naked  women  and  Indians,  and  duly  signed,  which  thence 
took  the  name  and  style  of  money,  —  the  very  thing  sought  for. 
And,  although  this  was,  of  all  other  methods,  the  most  successful 
way  to  wealth,  yet  it  required  a  sleight  of  hand  which  only  a  few 
could  command.  But  money,  when  acquired,  must  be  spent ; 
though  some  few  contented  themselves  with  investments  in  real 
estate  and  state  stocks,  despising  every  other  way  of  being 
happy.  In  spending  money  lay  the  touchstone  of  gentility ;  and 
many,  who  found  no  difficulty  in  making  money,  were  at  their 
wits'  end  to  spend  it  in  such  a  way  as  should  secure  them  a 
position  in  the  best  circles  of  fashion  and  refinement.  These  two 
circles,  refinement  and  fashion,  were  not  one  and  the  same ;  but, 
like  orbits  of  other  bodies  moving  in  elevated  spheres,  though 
lying  along  the  same  plane,  one  cut  the  other.  Money  was  a 
requisite  for  both, —  essential  to  the  one,  and  very  desirable  in 
the  other.  It  was  possible  to  be  refined  without  money,  but  it 
was  not  possible  to  be  fashionable.  It  was  a  "contest  which  of 
these  circles  should  out-rank  the  other.  But,  inasmuch  as  the 
circle  of  refinement  had  prerequisites  which  money  could  not 


56  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

command,  arising  from  birth,  education,  professional  distinction, 
scientific  and  sometimes  literary  eminence,  it  demanded  to  be 
recognized  as  the  best ;  a  claim  acknowledged  by  those  who  most 
earnestly  disputed  it. 

Among  this  second  circle  of  the  aristocracy  of  wealth,  there 
was  an  intense  jealousy  of  any  one  entering  and  taking  rank  in 
the  highest  walks  of  social  life  in  Babylon,  whose  only  claim  was 
founded  on  the  charms  of  intellect  and  manners.  Especially  was 
this  true  of  women.  It  seemed  as  if  each  one  felt  such  intru 
der  taking  something  from  herself,  and,  in  some  way,  shading  her 
individual  brightness.  It  was  a  rare  occurrence  ;  but  yet  such 
achievements  were  most  conspicuously  and  beautifully  accom 
plished,  as  when,  for  example,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write, 
Miss  Gray,  an  orphan  of  a  revolutionary  colonel,  rose  to  emi 
nence  by  the  force  of  talent,  and  by  charms  of  intellect 
acknowledged  by  those  who  could  admire  what  they  had  no 
power  to  imitate ;  for  grace  and  goodness^  do  make  themselves 
felt  everywhere.  It  was  by  such  power  of  fascination  this 
young  lady  drew  around  her  men  of  genius,  men  of  literature, 
and  lovers  of  art.  These  men,  one  by  one,  acquired  knowledge 
of  a  home,  always  bright  with  unaffected  courtesy,  and  with  the 
presence  of  minds  who  here  found  an  atmosphere  congenial  with 
their  taste  ;  where  it  was  not  out  of  place  to  talk  of  subjects  of 
their  long  study,  —  a  circle  in  which  all  sought  to  please,  and 
none  to  shine. 

We  have  said  the  tests  of  gentility  in  Babylon  were  the  man 
ner  in  which  the  possession  of  wealth  was  made  manifest  to  the 
world ;  the  style  of  their  houses,  their  furniture,  pictures,  plate, 
vases,  mirrors,  and  last,  not  least,  their  libraries.  In  pictures 


MR.  JOHN  BROWN,  SEXTON.  57 

the  "  old  masters  "  were  mostly  preferred.  Indeed,  a  lady  of 
eminence  told  a  visitor  from  abroad,  who  was  admiring  a  fine 
old  picture,  "  that  she  and  her  husband  thought  alike  in  all  such 
matters,  and  never  would  hang  up  in  their  parlors  any  but  old 
masters,  and  intended  going  to  the  continent  next  summer,  with 
their  two  girls,  expressly  to  be  painted  by  the  old  masters." 
The  libraries  were  for  the  most  part  massive  creations  of  the 
cabinet-maker ;  and  the  old  authors  very  like  prisoners  bound, 
appearing  at  the  plate-glass  doors. 

But,  above  all  things  else,  the  highest  ton  was  expressed  in 
their  notions  of  piety.  Pietism  was  the  rage  ;  and  the  centres 
of  fashion  were  the  gorgeous,  spacious,  splendid  churches  of  the 
apostolical  High  Church  of  Babylon.  In  this,  as  in  everything 
else,  they  sought  to  be  very  "  re-churcha,"  as  that  eminent  per 
son,  Mr.  John  Brown,  sexton  of  Grace  Church,  was  wont  to  say. 
This  gentleman  was  equally  distinguished  by  his  position  as  a 
leader  of  ton,  at  parties,  at  balls,  at  weddings  and  funerals. 
Indeed,  his  services  were  in  constant  request ;  and  it  was  his 
favorite  phrase,  when  called  upon  to  employ  his  talents  by  some 
ambitious  lady  or  gentleman,  "  It  shall  be  done  neat  and  very 
re-churcha"  We  will  give  a  single  illustration  of  the  power 
exerted  by  this  distinguished  gentleman  over  the  circles  of  the 
moneyed  section  of  the  aristocracy  in  Babylon.  By  some  acci 
dent  in  putting  up  his  sign  as  sexton  on  the  church,  the 
bar  on  the  shield  on  which  his  name  and  street  was  embla 
zoned  was  painted  sinister  ;  and,  without  further  investigation, 
magnificent  palaces  along  the  Fifth  Avenue  and  elsewhere  all 
bear,  carved  in  the  rich  entablatures  over  the  entrance,  shields 


58  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

like  those  of  Mr.  John  Brown,  with  bar  siuisters  thereon  ;  and, 
unless  erased,  there  they  stand  to  this  day. 

On  a  Sunday  morning,  if  the  weather  was  fine,  it  was  a  beau 
tiful  sight  to  see  these  votaries  of  fashion,  in  elegant  costumes, 
attended  by  gentlemen  as  faultless  in  dress  as  themselves,  going 
to  church,  and  then  to  witness  their  demeanor  in  church.  Piety 
is  always  beautiful,  and  the  affectation  of  piety  is  very  pretty ; 
for  it  affords  the  sweetness  of  contrast,  —  the  levity  of  the  last 
ball,  with  its  waltzes,  comes  up  to  the  mind  in  sweet  relief  to  the 
serenity  of  devotion,  transforming  the  Circe,  with  her  witching 
smile  and  significant  glance,  into  the  loveliest  Magdalen.  These 
contrasts  (whether  denned  or  not)  are  not  the  less  captivating, 
and  felt  most  by  those  who  themselves  are  most  innocent. 

In  the  haute  monde,  as  we  have  said,  and  as  was  befitting,  the 
piety  was  that  of  the  high  church.  Topics  the  most  delicate  to 
be  treated  of,  by  some  odd  turn  of  the  kaleidoscope  of  fashion, 
became  questions  of  the  first  necessity  and  notoriety  ;  and  such 
of  our  readers  as  would  like  to  know  all  that  can  be  said,  in 
the  most  attractive  manner,  are  referred  to  "  The  New  Una,  or 
Lady  Alice,"  whose  popularity  solely  rests  upon  the  treatment 
of  topics  of  saintly  interest  and  extremest  delicacy  by  the 
author,  who  has  shown  himself  a  worthy  scholar  in  the  school  of 
Sanchez,  Liguori,  and  other  sainted  writers  on  subjects  occult 
and  difficult  to  manage  by  most  men,  —  in  a  pious  way.  - 

And  now,  this  brings  us  to  the  subject-matter  of  our  story, — 
the  shortest  and  surest  way  to  reach  the  Celestial  City. 


DR.  GOODWIN   DINES  WITH   OUR  FRIENDS.  59 


CHAPTER    XI. 

DR.  GOODWIN    DINES    WITH    OUR.   FRIENDS. 

ACCORDING  to  appointment,  the  Rev.  Doctor  Goodwin,  at  throe 
o'clock,  rang  the  bell  at  Frank  Trueman's.  The  old  doctor,  as 
he  crossed  the  square  leading  to  the  Fifth  Avenue,  stopped  to 
talk  with  the  boys  at  play.  His  heart  was  with  them  in  their 
sports;  and  the  air  of  unconscious  power  which  marked  his 
presence  assured  the  passer-by  that  a  great  man  and  a  good  man 
stood  before  him.  Such  was  Annie's  "  dear  old  pastor,"  who, 
respected  by  all,  was  loved  with  fond  affection  by  his  own  people. 

Seeing  him  coming  up  the  steps,  Annie  and  Gertrude  ran  and 
opened  the  door.  "  How  kind  you  are,  dear  doctor,  to  dine  with 
us  !  "  said  Annie,  as  she  took  his  hat  and  cane,  while  Gertrude 
aided  him  in  divesting  himself  of  his  cloak. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  friends,"  said  the  doctor,  as  they  led 
him  into  the  parlor,  and  wheeled  up  the  most  luxurious  of  their 
easy-chairs  for  him  to  seat  himself.  The  ladies  then  drew  otto 
mans  beside  him,  and  the  doctor  began  by  saying  : 

"  It  is  a  source  of  sincerest  satisfaction  to  learn  that  you  con 
template  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City.  I  hope  it  is  so." 

"  Yes,  doctor,"  said  Annie,  "  we  all  purpose  to  set  out  next 
spring.  For  myself,  I  don't  feel  prepared  just  now  to  commence 
such  a  journey." 

"  What  do  you  hope  to  gain  by  delay  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  I  want  to  become  familiar  with  the  trials  and  perils  of  the 


60  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

way,  so  that  I  shall  not  be  discouraged  and  fail  of  the  end," 
said  Annie. 

"  There  is  more  of  speciousness  than  fact  in  your  reasons  for 
delay.  The  heart  is  deceitful,  and  cannot  be  trusted.  Instant 
obedience  to  a  known  duty  is  always  wisest,  safest,  and  best." 

"  My  dear  doctor,"  said  Annie,  with  deep  feeling,  "  I  never 
expect  to  know  myself.  Every  day  I  make  such  strange  and  sur 
prising  discoveries  of  my  waywardness,  that  I  look  upon  myself 
as  some  being  other  than  myself." 

"  Is  it  so  strange,  then  ?  "  said  Doctor  Goodwin.  "  Have  you 
never,  when  a  child,  played  with  a  bucket  in  the  well  filled  with 
water,  and  wondered  that,  though  you  could  play  with  it  in  the 
water  at  will,  yet,  when  you  tried  to  lift  it  up  out  of  the  water 
in  which  it  floated,  then  came  the  tug  and  the  strain  ?  And  do 
you  not  read  in  the  Guide-book,  '  When  the  strong  man  keepeth 
his  palace,  his.  goods  are  in  peace ;  but  when  a  stronger  than  he 
cometh  upon  him,'  then  cometh  the  conflict  ?  " 

"  And  is  my  whole  pilgrimage  to  be  a  conflict  ?  "  asked  An 
nie.  "  What,  then,  is  meant  by  the  '  full  assurance  of  faith '  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  very  young  pupil  in  the  school  of  the  heart,  my 
dear  lady,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  Every  new  day  brings  a  new 
lesson ;  every  new  leaf  presents  new  ideas,  new  hopes,  and  new 
fears.  The  assurance  of  faith  is  the  last  attainment  of  a 
Christian." 

"  It  is  very  discouraging  to  hear  you  talk  so  !  "  said  Annie,  in 
a  most  desponding  tone. 

"  You  will  attain  it  when  you  have  spent  a  life  in  «  following 
on  to  know  the  Lord.'  The  vista  of  life  looks  distant,  but  how 
brief  at  last!" 


THE   REV.  DR.  GOODWIN.  61 

"  But,  doctor,"  said  Gertrude,  "  a  life  is  not  measured  by 
years,  but  by  emotions ;  and  how  long  that  life  will  be  which  is 
so  full  of  new  states  of  feeling,  —  of  hope,  of  sorrow,  and,  worst 
of  all,  of  temptation  and  sin !  Why  cannot  we,  or  why  was  it 
not  so  ordained,  that,  so  soon  as  we  were  willing  to  enter  the 
Celestial  City,  we  might,  by  a  volition,  be  taken  there  ?  This 
is,  I  suppose,  the  mode  of  angelic  beings  in  flying  from  world  to 
world." 

The  good  doctor  smiled  at  the  progress  his  young  friend  had 
made  in  such  matters,  so  common  to  young  disciples  whose 
imaginations,  awakened  to  new  ideas,  become  familiar  with 
worlds  above,  while  the  world  within  is  just  in  the  day-dawn, 
and  lies  all  untr  a  veiled  and  unknown. 

"  It  is  not  wise,  my  dear  Mrs.  Trueman,  to  reason  and  specu 
late  on  matters  so  high  above  us.  'We  are  of  the  earth,  earthy.' 
Our  first  queries  are  rarely  those  which  should  be  first.  Let  me 
tell  you,  our  first  duty  is  to  love  God,  our  Creator,  our  Saviour, 
our  Sanctifier,  and  to  assure  ourselves  and  others  that  we  do  so. 
Our  second  duty  is,  warm  sympathy  for  the  highest  interests 
of  all  around  us,  and  charity  wide  as  the  circle  of  human 
misery." 

"  0  yes ! "  sighed  Annie,  evidently  recurring  to  what  Ger 
trude  had  said,  rather  than  the  doctor's  reply  ;  "but  it  is  strange 
that,  knowing  so  much,  we  don't  know  any  more  ! " 

"  If  you  knew  more,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  there  would  be  less 
exercise  of  'faith." 

"  There  it  is  !  —  faith  !  faith  !  —  when  what  I  want  is  cer 
tainty  !  "  said  Annie,  petulantly. 

"Let  me  tell  you,  my  child,"  said  the  doctor,  somewhat 
6 


62  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

sternly,  "  in  the  words  of  the  great  and  good  Lavater,  *  The 
last  attainment  of  a  Christian  is,  to  say,  —  I  can  wait ! '  " 

Oliver  now  entered,  and  the  current  of  conversation  was 
changed  to  the  common  out-of-door  topics  of  the  day.  Frank 
too  came  home,  and  welcomed  Dr.  Goodwin,  assuring  him  that 
his  presence  was  regarded  by  him  as  a  distinguished  favor  con 
ferred.  And  it  was  so.  If  ever  we  attain  in  this  world  a  fore 
taste  of  the  pleasure  arising  from  intercourse  with  holy  beings,  it 
is  in  the  society  of  gifted  and  pure  minds.  As  Cowper  has 
sweetly  sung : 

"  When  one  that  holds  communion  -with  the  skies 
Has  filled  his  urn  where  these  pure  waters  rise, 
And  once  more  mingles  with  us  meaner  things, 
'Tis  e'en  as  if  an  angel  shook  his  wings  ! 
Immortal  fragrance  fills  the  circuit  Avide, 
That  tells  us  whence  his  treasures  are  supplied. 
So  when  a  ship,  well  freighted  with  the  stores 
The  sun  matures  on  India's  spicy  shores, 
Has  dropped  her  anchor,  and  her  canvas  furled, 
In  some  safe  haven  of  our  western  world, 
'T  were  vain  inquiry  to  what  port  she  went —     . 
The  gale  informs  us,  laden  with  the  scent  !  " 

At  the  dinner-table  the  conversation  was  various,  easy,  grace 
ful,  and  at  times  mirthful.  Frank  had  some  foreign  news  to 
tell,  and  Oliver  to  speak  of  his  visit  to  the  hospital.  This  pro 
voked  Annie's  witticisms  about  Oliver's  love  of  cutting  up  peo 
ple,  and  it  soon  became  a  most  delightful  dinner-party.  When 
they  rose  to  return  to  the  parlor,  the  doctor  tasked  our  ladies  to 
play  for  him.  This  being  over,  the  good  doctor  turned  the  con- 


THE    REV.  DR.  UPATREE.  t>3 

versation  upon  the  pilgrimage.  He  spoke  of  the  glorious  destiny 
awaiting  them,  and  the  certainty  of  success.  He  spoke  of  the 
provisions  made  for  pilgrims,  and  urged  the  necessity  of  a  union 
to  one  of  the  caravans  they  would  find  in  their  pilgrimage  over 
the  Great  Desert.  The  carriage  was  announced  at  eight  o'clock, 
when  Frank  and  Oliver  accompanied  the  doctor  home.  The 
good  man  was  not  less  happy  in  receiving  than  in  conferring 
favors. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

DOCTOR    UPATREE     DINES    WITH    OUR    FRIENDS. THEIR     COLLOQUY. 

THE  day  assigned  to  the  Holy  Innocents,  in  the  Metropolitan 
Catholic  Almanac,  was  all  unknown  to  our  friends.  "  When 
would  it  come  ? "  was  asked  of  several  callers-in ;  but  none 
knew,  and  no  calendar  of  the  saints  could  they  find. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Frank,  "  the  doctor  has  some  meaning  in 
selecting  the  day,  as  in  selecting  his  symbol  on  the  seal  of  his 
note.  What  do  you  think,  Annie  ?  " 

"  I  hope  he  will  find  us  quite  as  innocent  as  we  are  simple  !  " 
was  the  reply  of  Annie. 

That  day  Frank  bought  an  almanac  which  contained  a  full 
registry  of  all  the  saints,  and  the  color  to  be  worn  on  that  day, 
which  was  set  down  as  red  ;  and  the  ladies  undertook  to  see  that, 
in  arranging  the  table,  the  finger-bowls  and  doilies  should  be  red 


64:  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

or  scarlet ;  a  courtesy  "which  was  gratefully  noticed  by  the  rev 
erend  doctor  during  dinner. 

The  day  was  clear  and  cold,  and  the  ground  glazed  with  ice, 
so  that  it  was  a  labor  of  love  for  the  doctor  to  fulfil  his  engage 
ment  ;  but  he  was  a  man  never  behind  time.  On  this  occasion 
he  wore  a  black  dress  coat,  "  all  buttoned  down  before,"  which, 
during  the  labors  of  the  repast,  he  so  far  opened  as  to  disclose  a 
diamond  cross  on  his  bosom,  the  gift  of  a  saintly  lady  whom  he 
had  recently  expressed  in  the  fast  line  to  the  Celestial  City ;  and 
on  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand  was  that  mysterious  symbol 
which  he  affixed  to  all  important  notes  and  papers. 

The  conversation  at  table  took  the  direction  Dr.  Upatree  gave 
it.  Books  and  reviews  were  alluded  to,  —  the  opening  of  the 
gay  season,  the  parties  to  come  off ;  and  Mrs.  Gen.  Montgomery's 
fancy  party  was  spoken  of  as  likely  to  become  a  masked  ball, 
which  Dr.  Upatree  regretted,  inasmuch  as  Mrs.  Gen.  Montgom 
ery  was  a  prominent  church-member  of  "  The  Annunciation." 
Ordinations  to  take  place,  and  visitations  of  the  bishop,  were 
topics  of  which  the  doctor  spoke  at  large,  but  not  a  word  about 
the  pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City. 

Frank  led  the  way  to  the  subject  as  soon  as  they  had  taken 
coffee  in  the  saloon.  "  We  have  been  engaged  of  late  in  study 
ing  the  Guide-book,  in  order  to  determine  our  route  to  the  Celes 
tial  City,"  said  Frank. 

The  doctor  bristled  up  in  an  instant.  There  was  something 
offensive  to  him  in  the  calm,  confident  tone  in  which  this  was 
said.  "  Surely,  surely,  sir,  you  do  not  presume  to  follow  the 
teachings  of  your  own  judgment  in  a  matter  of  this  sort !  Sir, 
'  the  sacred  volume  was  never  intended,  and  was  not  adapted,  to 


DR.  UrATllEE'S   VIEWS    OF   PROTESTANTISM.  65 

teach  us  our  creed  ;  however  certain  it  is,  we  can  prove  our  creed 
from  it,  when  it  has  once  been  taught  us.'  "^ 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Frank,  "  I  had  supposed  that  the  saying  of 
Chillingworth,  *  The  Bible,  the  only  rule  of  faith  and  practice,' 
was  the  acknowledged  stand-point  of  all  Protestants." 

"  Protestants !"  exclaimed  the  doctor;  "I  abhor  the  name  ! 
'  The  very  name  of  Protestantism,  cold  and  negative  and  scepti 
cal  as  it  is,  ought  to  be  abolished  among  us.'t  Your  Guide-book 
*  I  acknowledge  as  the  record  of  necessary  truth,  but  the  church 
Catholic's  tradition  is  the  interpreter  of  it.'  "$ 

"  Tradition ! "  said  Annie ;  "  and  who  knows  what  tradition  is?  " 

"  The  church  Catholic,"  replied  Dr.  Upatree. 

"  And  the  church  Catholic  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

"  The  Anglican  church,"  replied  the  doctor,  proudly,, 

"  That  is  not  the  name  of  our  church,"  said  Gertrude,  with 
some  timidity.  "  Our  prayer-book  claims  for  us  the  title  of 
'  The  Protestant  Episcopal  church.'  " 

"  It  does  so,  my  clear  Mrs.  Trueman,"  said  the  doctor  ;  "  and 
it  is  a  most  mischievous  error,  associating  our  church  with  the 
heresies  on  the  continent ;  *  as  if  our  church  was  but  one  among 
many  Protestant  bodies,  and  that  the  differences  between  Protest 
ants  are  of  but  little  consequence.' §  'Odious  Protestanism ! '  II 
That  hateful  '  schism  'IT  'to  which  the  perverse  anti-ecclesias- 

*  I.  II.  Newman.  —  "  The  Arians  of  the  Fourth  Century." 

t  Quarterly  lleview,  vol.  Ixi.,  p.  235.          %  Tract  for  the  Times,  No.  71. 

§  Tract  for  the  Times,  No.  71,  p.  32. 

H  Froud's  Remains,  vol.  i.  p.  322. 

IT  "  Then  many  a  schism  overleaped  the  banks 
Genevese,  Lutheran,  and  Scotch  diversities." 

#  Lyra  Apostolica,  p.  136. 


66  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

tical  spirit  of  the  Keformation  on  the  continent  gave  birth.'* 
'  Really,  I  hate  the  Reformation  and  the  reformers  more  and 
more.'  t 

"  What  you  say,  doctor,  is  all  very  new  to  us,"  said  Frank. 
"  I  have  been  accustomed,  for  one,  to  think  of  Wickliffe,  Luther, 
Calvin,  and  Knox,  as  standing  alongside  with  Cranmer,  Ridley, 
Latimer,  and  Jewell,  among  the  chief  of  modern  apostles." 

"  You  have  been  under  a  most  miserable  delusion,  sir,"  said 
the  doctor,  petulantly.  "  '  I  have  just  been  reading  a  good  deal 
about  the  Reformation  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  time ;  it  is  shock 
ing,  indeed.'  $  '  I  dislike  Wickliffe,'  §  and,  as  to  the  other 
reformers,  I  think  worse  and  worse  of  them.  'Jewell  was  what 
I  should  call,  in  these  days,  an  irreverent  dissenter.  His 
Apology  has  disgusted  me  more  than  almost  any  work  I  ever 
read.'  II 

"  Let  me  assure  you,  my  friends,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  all 
you  need  for  your  safe-conduct,  in  life  and  in  death,  is  the 
teaching  of  the  representatives  of  the  apostles  now  on  the  earth ; 
from  whose  communion  you  may  obtain  grace,  as  the  first  Chris 
tians  did  from  the  apostles,  IF  who  are  constituted  the  only  con 
duits  of  the  grace  of  God ;  and  to  whom  was  given  the  power 
of  the  keys." 

The  doctor  now  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  with  the  greatest  force 
of  gesticulation,  went  on  :  "  The  power  of  the  keys !  There 's 

*  British  Magazine,  vol.  Lx.  p.  359. 

t  From  Froud's  Remains,  vol.  I.  p.  389. 

$  Froud,  vol.  i.  p.  325. 

§  Froud,  vol.  i.  p.  250. 

II  Froud,  vol.  i.  p.  380. 

IT  British  Magazine,  vol.  ix.  p.  365. 


OF   MODERN   PIETISTS.  67 

no  denying  this.  Dissenters  and  schismatics  may  well  disclaim 
all  such  power;  but  the  church  Catholic  has  never  ceased  to 
control  the  gates  of  heaven  and  hell.  This  is  faith  —  a  faith 
which  never  fails  to  inspire  emotions  of  a  most  persuasive  and 
transporting  character.*  The  highest  attainment  you  can  reach 
is,  to  be  as  sure  that  the  bishop  is  Christ's  representative,  as  if  we 
actually  saw  him  work  miracles  like  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul."  t 

The  doctor  bowed,  and,  with  a  solemn  air,  withdrew,  as  if 
anxious  that  the  effect  of  his  last  words  should  rest,  in  all  their 
power,  upon  the  minds  of  our  friends. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  arrogancy  expressed  before  ?  "  asked 
Annie,  as  Oliver  and  Frank  returned  to  the  parlor,  having  aided 
the  doctor  to  his  cloak  and  cane. 

"  And  yet  it  cannot  but  exist  with  such  opinions,"  said  Frank. 
"  I  don't  think,  dearest,  we  shall  go  either  in  the  Old  Oxford 
Slow-and-Sure,  or  even  by  the  express,  or  over  your  bridge." 
This  was  said  by  Frank  to  his  wife,  who  was  sitting  in  silent 
amazement. 

"  In  what  line  shall  we  go  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"We  must  foot  it,  my  dear,"  replied  Oliver,  "if  we  follow 
the  footsteps  of  the  great  Master." 

*  Tracts  for  the  Times,  No.  10. 

The  following  lines  show  the  safety  of  such  power  in  the  hands  of  men  : 

"  Behold  your  armory  !  sword  and  lightning  shaft 
Culled  from  the  stores  of  God's  all-judging  ire, 
And  in  your  wielding  left,  the  words  that  waft 

Power  to  your  voice  absolving,  point  with  fire 
Your  awful  curse  !  "  Lyra  Apostolica,  p.  214. 

t  Tracts  for  the  Times,  No.  10. 


68  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

MRS.    GENERAL   MONTGOMERY   AND   MISS   GOLIGIITLY'S    VISIT. 

ALL  this  while,  the  gay  world  of  Babylon  was  full  of  excite 
ment  and  joyousness.  Miss  Golightly  called  with  her  aunt,  Mrs. 
General  Montgomery,  upon  the  family  of  Mr.  Frank  Trueman. 
The  husbands  and  wives  were  at  home,  so  the  wishes  of  Miss 
Golightly  were  so  far  all  realized.  And  the  aunt  fully  met  the 
wants  of  the  niece  ;  for  she  absorbed  the  attention  of  the  ladies 
and  Oliver,  and  allowed  Miss  Golightly  (under  pretence  of 
examining  a  picture  in  the  other  end  of  the  parlor)  to  draw 
Frank  to  her  side.  Now  we  may  here  state  the  fact,  that  this 
young  lady  had  thrown  her  fascinations  around  Mr.  Frank  on 
his  entrance  into  society,  and,  as  she  believed,  with  good  pros 
pects  of  success,  when  she  was  called  away  to  attend  the  dying 
bed  of  her  father ;  and,  before  her  return  to  the  city,  Gertrude 
had  made  her  appearance,  and  Miss  Golightly  found  herself  sup 
planted.  It  was  true,  Frank  was  as  unconscious  of  any  plans 
entertained  by  this  lady  then  as  he  was  now.  It  was  sufficient 
that  she  had  plans  and  purposes,  all  of  which  she  believed  would 
have  been  matured,  but  for  her  most  unhappy  withdrawal  just 
at  that  time. 

Having  obtained  her  point  so  far,  Miss  Golightly  began  by  a 
criticism  on  the  picture ;  and,  letting  her  voice  fall  quietly  to  a 
safe  key,  she  commenced  her  attempt  to  awaken  in  the  mind  of 
Frank  the  idea  of  there  being  one  other  attractive  lady  in  the 
world  beside  his  wife.  Her  glance  rivetted  Frank  in  an  instant. 


MISS   GOLIGHTLY   AND   FRANK.  69 

This  done,  she  spoke  her  regrets  at  his  seclusion  from  society, 
of  the  pleasure  she  had  expected  from  meeting  him  often  this 
winter  —  her  "  last  winter ; "  and  she  looked  tenderly  in  Frank's 
face. 

"  Do  you  go  on  a  pilgrimage  ?  "  asked  Frank,  with  awakening 
interest. 

"  Alas,  no  !  I  am  about  to  go  on  a  life-long  voyage,  on  a  sea 
called  Matrimony,  full  of  shoals  and  sunken  rocks,  swept  over 
by  storms  and  whirlwinds,  under  the  guidance  of  Major  Hard- 
castle,  a  friend  of  yours." 

Frank  laughed,  and  tendered  her  his  congratulations. 

Miss  Golightly  put  her  finger  to  her  lip.  "  I  hate  to  hear  that 
laugh  from  you  ;  but  no  matter  —  there  was  a  time  when  such 
an  event  would  not  have  been  to  you  a  subject  of  mirth,  as  it  is 
not  now  to  me  ;  but  my  heart  is  silent,  it  must  not  speak.  But 
will  you  come  to  my  party  on  Thursday  evening  ?  It  is  a  fancy 
party  only.  I  shall  change  my  dress,  however,  three  times  ;  and, 
in  the  last,  shall  be  so  masked  as  to  be  unknown  to  all  but  you. 
Now  it  is  my  last  request :  will  you  not  come  ?  It  will  be  so 
delightful  for  me  to  have  you  all  to  myself  once  more ;  and 
then,  too,  I  have  much  to  say  which  I  have  long  wished  you 
should  know." 

Frank's  color  came  to  his  cheek,  and  his  heart  beat  under  the 
influence  of  the  Circe ;  but  he  was  able  to  say,  in  a  calm  tone, 
"  Since  we  parted,  great  changes  have  come  over  me." 

"  0  yes ! "  interrupted  the  lady,  with  a  reproachful  tone, 
"  you  are  married." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  Gertrude,  then,"  replied  Frank. 

"  Indeed  !  of  whom  were  you  thinking  ?  " 


70  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"  Of  no  one,"  replied  Frank.  "  I  was  about  to  tell  you  of 
my  purpose  to  become  a  pilgrim." 

"  And  what  of  that  ?  Are  there  not  hundreds  who,  assum 
ing  the  name  and  style  of  a  pilgrim,  never  leave  the  city  of 
Babylon?  And  why  should  you  become  a  stranger  to  the 
circles  you  once  enjoyed,  and  which  were  made  brighter  and 
happier  by  your  presence  ? "  And,  assuming  an  air  of  win 
ning  confidence,  she  whispered :  "  My  last  dress  is  to  be  that 
of  a  veiled  nun.  You  must  come ;  and,  while  I  may  do  so,  let 
me  tell  you  of  all  that  lives,  and  burns,  and  brightens  in  my 
inmost  soul — for  you."  There  was  a  pleading  look,  a  depth  of 
tenderness,  which  was  hard  to  withstand. 

The  glance  of  Mrs.  Montgomery's  eye  attracted  the  attention 
of  Annie  to  Frank.  Unconsciously  to  herself,  Miss  Golightly 
had  indulged  in  some  pantomime,  some  little  expression  of 
witchery  in  her  movements,  and  Annie  was  impelled  to  put  au 
end  to  all  this  whispering;  so  she  called  out,  "Why,  Frank, 
how  selfish  you  are,  to  keep  Miss  G-olightly  all  to  yourself." 

That  young  lady  wheeled  round,  and,  with  an  air  of  gayety, 
said :  "  Indeed,  I  think  so,  too  ;  and  beside,  I  have  something 
very  special  to  say  to  you,  —  and  also  to  you,  Mrs.  Trueman.  I 
am  to  give  a  party  at  my  aunt's.  It  is  her  party,  but  she  allows 
me  to  manage  it  as  I  please.  It  will  be  very  select,  and  I  ask 
you  so  far  to  break  in  upon  your  charmed  circle  as  to  spend  one 
evening  with  me.  I  have  some  claims  upon  Mr.  Trueman,  and 
he  will  come  —  if  you  will  accompany  him." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Gertrude.  "  Does  he  accept  your  invitation 
on  this  condition  ?  " 

"  He  has  not,"  said  Miss  Golightly ;  "  but  I  know  him  so 


MISS   GOLIGHTLY  AND   FRANK.  71 

well,  that,  unless  lie  is  greatly  changed,  he  will  never  fail  in 
courtesy." 

"  I  hope  he  has  changed,  then,"  said  Gertrude. 

"  Indeed !  that  is  a  strange  speech  for  you  to  make,"  said 
Mrs.  Montgomery. 

"  It  is  a  fitting  speech  for  my  wife  to  make,"  said  Frank.  "  I 
respectfully  and  gratefully  decline  your  invitation,  as  we  have 
all  those  we  have  received  this  season,"  said  Frank,  bowing  to 
the  visitors. 

The  ladies  rose  up  to  go.  Miss  Grolightly  maintained  her  air 
of  courtesy  and  gayety  until  they  were  seated  in  their  carriage  ; 
then  she  broke  forth  :  "  Frank  Trueman  has  become  an  icicle. 
How  I  hate  him  !  I  hate  them  all ;  and  most  of  all,  I  hate  his 
wife  ! "  

Thus  the  winter  passed  away,  and  spring  opened.  Our  friends 
were  more  and  more  absorbed  by  their  plans  of  a  pilgrimage, 
while  the  world  around  them  were  seeking  to  find  stability  in 
bubbles,  and  joy  of  heart  in  the  vain  amusements  of  fashionable 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   PILGRIMAGE   IS   COMMENCED. 

EARLY  in  the  month  of  May,  Mr.  Conscience  came  to  see  our 
friends  off.  They  had  placed  their  property  under  the  care  of 
Mr.  Trustworthy,  the  son  and  partner  of  the  old  partner  of  Mr. 


72  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Trucinan,  Senior,  and  invested  all  their  personal  estate  in  state 
stocks,  as  is  the  custom  of  all  modern  pilgrim*.  The  ancient 
way  was,  to  leave  all,  or  to  give  it  to  the  poor ;  but  this  was 
long  before  the  discovery  of  Letters  of  Credit  and  Bills  of  Ex 
change,  which  are  now  carried  about  the  person  without  any 
inconvenience. 

Mr.  Conscience  was  delighted  with  their  quiet  and  settled  pur 
pose  to  take  the  Guide-book  for  their  counsellor,  and  encouraged 
them  to  believe  their  path  would  always  be  made  plain,  though 
it  would  sometimes  take  them  through  very  rough  places. 

Having  taken  leave  of  their  friends,  to  the  surprise  and  aston 
ishment  of  their  fashionable  acquaintances,  they  forded  the  river, 
and  thus  commenced  their  pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City. 
Everything  was  bright  to  them,  as  they  came  up  out  of  the 
water,  and  went  on  their  way  rejoicing. 

They  travelled  with  an  elastic  step  over  a  green  sward,  covered 
with  flowers  of  spring.  They  wondered,  as  they  went  forward,  that 
they  came  to  no  Slough  of  Despond,  nor  did  they  see  any  Wicket- 
Gate,  nor  any  sign  of  Beelzebub's  Castle.  And,  as  the  day  ad 
vanced,  they  hoped  to  reach  the  Interpreter's  House  in  good  time 
for  dining,  and  confidently  believed  it  must  be  over  the  hill  lying 
just  ahead  of  them,  and  closing  in  the  landscape  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  forming  the  spur  of  mountains  beyond,  and  which 
stretched  along  the  horizon  like  distant  clouds.  They  were  now 
overtaken  by  a  pilgrim,  whose  cheerful  air  made  it  easy  to 
address  him,  hoping  he  might  solve  the  doubts  that  had  perplexed 
them  all. 

"Are  you  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City?"  asked 
Frank. 


THEY    MEET   A   PILGRIM.  73 

"  Yes,  I  hope  so,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Where  is  the  Wicket-Gate,  and  Beelzebub's  Castle,  and  the 
Interpreter's  House?  Can  it  be  that  we  are  in  the  right  way?" 

The  pilgrim  smiled,  and  said :  "  Ah  !  you  have  in  your  mind 
the  Pilgrim's  book,  written  long  since  by  the  great  Bunyan. 
You  forget  two  centuries  have  elapsed  since  he  started  on  his 
journey,  and  great  changes  have  been  made  in  that  time,  not 
only  in  the  manner  of  making  the  pilgrimage,  but  in  the  route. 
His  road  lay  directly  up  into  the  hill-country,  a  very  rugged 
way ;  but  the  path  which  you  followed  lay  over  the  smooth 
and  verdant  plain.  For  a  long  time  pilgrims  would  take  the 
rough  road,  '  because,'  they  said,  '  it  was  the  shortest,  safest, 
and  most  direct ; '  but  their  successors  made  a  grand  discovery 
when  they  determined  that  t  the  bale  of  a  kettle  is  just  the 
same  length,  whether  it  stands  up  or  lies  down.  So  they  pre 
ferred  going  .round  hills  to  climbing  them ;  and,  more  recently, 
the  various  methods  of  staging  and  railroads  have  come  into 
general  use.  But  the  poor  find  hills  to  climb,  and  I  think  we 
are  in  sight  of  one  which  must  be  climbed ;  for  there  is  no 
getting  around  it." 

"  And  don't  we  go  through  the  Wicket-Gate  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  Shall  we  not  visit  the  Interpreter's  House  ?  "  said  Oliver. 

" Is  there  no  Castle  Apollyon?"  asked  Gertrude. 

All  these  questions  came  upon  the  pilgrim  at  once,  and  he 
confessed  his  entire  ignorance.  "  I  really  do  not  know.  It  is 
an  untried  path  to  us  all.  I  have  been  told  the  way  is  much 
longer  than  it  was,  and  that  there  are  no  chariots  of  fire  now-a- 
days  to  help  pilgrims  upward  and  onward ;  but  dangers,  equally 
difficult  to  meet  as  in  the  days  of  Bunyan,  await  us.  But  what 
7 


74  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

they  are,  and  how  they  are  to  be  met,  I  know  not.  '  Sufficient 
unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.'  I  think,  from  appearances, 
we  shall  soon  have  our  sinews  tested." 

For  now  they  came  along  the  base  of  a  steep  hill,  coming  out 
into  the  plain  like  a  bold  headland  upon  the  ocean.  They 
skirted  it  along  for  a  mile  or  so,  to  find  an  easy  place  of  ascent ; 
but  it  only  grew  more  and  more  steep,  until  they  came  in  view 
of  the  great  line  of  travel  of  stage-coaches  and  railroad  cars, 
and  found  these  ran  into  a  vast  tunnel,  broken,  at  great  cost  and 
labor,  through  the  hill.  Here  they  all  paused.  There  was  a 
sign  of  great  size,  giving  the  prices  of  passengers  on  foot.  The 
charge  was  very  high,  and  so  was  the  hill.  Now,  then,  while  Frank 
was  unbuttoning  his  coat,  the  poor  pilgrim  buttoned  his  up. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  climb  when  there *s  a  plain  pathway 
before  us  !  "  exclaimed  Frank,  laying  his  hand  on  the  pilgrim's 
arm. 

"  I  have  no  money  to  pay  tolls,"  replied  the  pilgrim.  "  My 
way  lies  up  this  hill,  and  I  shall  meet  it  as  best  I  may." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Annie,  "  we  are  well  supplied  with 
money,  and  why  will  you  not  let  us  pay  your  toll  ?  We  want 
your  society." 

"  Thank  you,  lady,"  said  the  pilgrim.  "  I  must  be  self- 
reliant  at  some  time,  and  I  choose  to  face  the  first  trial  of  my 
strength ;  and  here  it  is." 

So  saying,  he  began  his  ascent ;  and  they  stood  gazing  on  with 
admiring  eyes  until  he  had  reached  the  top,  when,  bowing  to 
them,  he  disappeared,  and  they  saw  him  no  more. 

"What  difference  does  it  make,"  asked  Frank,  "whether  wo 
climb  up  or  go  through  ? "  looking  through  the  tunnel  to  the 


TUNNEL  THROUGH  HILL   DIFFICULTY.  75 

clear  sunshine,  which  shone  like  a  diamond  at  the  end  of  the 
dark  cavern. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  poor  man  was  so  proud,"  said  Annie. 
"  Our  money  was  his,  as  truly  as  our  own ;  and,  he  being  a 
pilgrim,  and  we  pilgrims,  should  confide  in  each  other." 

"  I  like  his  manliness,"  said  Frank.  "  He  is  most  to  be 
respected,  who,  without  pretension,  respects  himself." 

So  they  paid  the  toll ;  "  for,"  said  Annie,  "  if  they  have 
bridges,  why  not  tunnels  ?  "  And,  sure  enough,  why  not  ?  But 
they  forgot  that,  while  they  were  so  very  careful  to  ford  the  river, 
the  same  reasons  should  have  made  them  follow  the  example 
of  the  pilgrim,  who,  though  he  had  come  over  the  Presbyterian 
bridge,  as  he  had  told  them  in  a  colloquy  we  have  not  re 
corded,  would  not  take  the  tunnel.  Alas  !  so  it  is  with  modern 
pilgrims. 

On  emerging  from  this  underground  passage,  they  continued 
their  journey,  not  a  little  puzzled  which  path  to  take ;  for  these 
were  as  diverse  as  it  was  possible  to  be.  After  a  pause,  they 
took  the  one  which  looked  to  be  most  trodden.  As  for  the  stage- 
lines  and  railroad  track,  they  swept  to  the  left,  to  avoid  the 
gentle  slope  of  a  long  hill  in  front.  The  day  was  now  declining, 
the  sun  but  three  hours  high,  and  no  sign  of  a  house  was  to  be 
seen.  On  their  way  up  the  hill,  Gertrude  expressed  a  fear  lest 
they  might  be  shot  at  from  the  battlements  of  Beelzebub's  Castle. 
This  thought  excited  no  small  alarm  in  their  minds.  Frank  said 
he  would  go  up  and  spy  out  the  land  ;  when  Gertrude,  pale  with 
fear,  begged  him  not  to  go.  Annie,  taking  hold  of  his  arm,  sent 
Oliver  up  the  hill,  which  he  ascended  with  alacrity,  while  Ger 
trude  wept,  under  the  censure  of  Frank  for  her  selfishness. 


76  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

Oliver  beckoned  them  to  come  up.  On  reaching  the  summit, 
they  stood  in  admiration  of  the  beautiful  country  before  them. 
It  was  verdant  and  undulating ;  clumps  of  trees  were  scattered 
over  the  plain,  and  herds  were  grazing  about  showed  it  to  be  a 
cattle-growing  country.  They  saw  the  cars  in  the  distance 
careering  onward  to  a  magnificent  arch,  resembling  Arc  de 
I'Etoile,  and  on  the  right  a  chateau  of  the  mediaeval  age ;  but 
whether  it  was  ancient  or  modern,  such  was  the  rage  for  a  Gothic 
style  of  building  in  Babylon,  that  they  could  not  tell ;  and 
beyond  the  arch  were  buildings  of  different  orders  of  architec 
ture,  of  great  extent,  whose  windows  flamed  with  the  reflected 
rays  of  the  setting  sun. 

The  chateau  was  nearest  to  them,  and  the  iron  fence  of  barbed 
spears  ran  parallel  with  a  road  beautifully  macadamized, 
circling  the  walls  and  fence  as  far  as  they  could  see.  This  road 
to  the  chateau  lay  through  an  arched  way  once  forming  the 
grand  entrance  to  some  feudal  castle,  of  which  this  central  pile 
of  frowning  towers  alone  remained. 

"  Can  that  be  the  Wicket-Gate  of  modern  times  ? "  asked 
Oliver,  pointing  out  the  Arc  de  VEtoile  to  his  party,  who  stood  in 
silent  admiration  of  the  scene. 

"  If  it  be  so,"  said  Frank,  "  where  is  Apollyon's  Castle  ?  " 

While  they  stood  thus  perplexed  which  way  to  go,  an  open 
landau,  with  four  splendid  black  horses,  containing  a  gentleman, 
rolled  along  the  road.  He  -no  sooner  saw  them  than  he  pulled 
the  check-string  and  alighted,  and,  bowing  to  our  party,  awaited 
their  approach ;  and  they,  with  a  feeling  of  embarrassment,  ad 
vanced  to  meet  him. 

This  gentleman  was  apparently  about  sixty  years  of  age  :  his 


COUNT  DE  .VILLE.  77 

hair  was  slightly  gray,  and  his  head  bald  on  the  crown.  He  was 
of  a  medium  height ;  his  face  round,  with  a  large  mouth,  which 
had  a  smile  about  it  sinister  and  repulsive  to  our  ladies.  His 
gray  eyes  were  keen  and  quick  ;  his  style  of  dress  and  mien  were 
alike  perfect,  and  nothing  could  be  more  seductive  than  the  tones 
of  his  voice.  These  assured  them  of  his  high  breeding  and 
finished  education. 

"  Pilgrims,  I  presume,"  said  the  gentleman,  raising  his  hat  and 
bowing. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Oliver.  "  We  are  just  now  in  some  perplexity 
as  to  our  way  to  the  Interpreter's  House." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  too  late  to  reach  it  before  dark,"  was  his  reply. 
"  May  I  beg  the  honor  of  your  company  at  my  chateau  for  the 
night?  In  the  morning,"  bowing  graciously  to  the  ladies,  "I 
will  myself  direct  you  in  the  right  way." 

The  ladies  bowed  gracefully,  but  with  a  most  non-committal 
courtesy,  leaving  the  question,  as  was  fitting  they  should  do,  to 
their  husbands'  decision.  Frank  accepted  the  invitation,  with 
the  grateful  expression  of  his  thanks  for  this  most  opportune 
offer  of  hospitality. 

This  matter  settled,  the  gentleman  introduced  himself  as  Count 
de  Ville,  and  was  introduced  in  due  form  to  our  party.  He  pro 
posed  that  the  ladies  should  take  seats  in  the  carriage  with 
Oliver,  and  he  would  walk  with  Frank.  This  was  acceded  to, 
and  Annie  and  Gertrude  found  themselves  once  more  careering 
rapidly  onward,  with  a  swinging,  joyous  motion  ;  and  as  the  soft 
evening  breeze  played  with  their  tresses,  they  could  not  but  speak 
of  the  superiority  of  all  other  ways  of  making  a  pilgrimage  to 
footing  it ;  and  Oliver,  at  the  instant,  being  jounced  over  a  stone, 
7* 


78  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

uttered  something  which  sounded  very  like  "  ay,"  as  both  the 
ladies  believed  him  to  have  said,  but  when  he  was  told  of  it 
months  after,  he  insisted  it  was  not  "  ay,"  but  "  ah  !  "  and  so 
this  became  one  of  those  little  vexed  questions  forever  to  be  dis 
puted  about  among  husbands  and  wives.  Sometimes  it  served 
to  point  a  witticism,  and  then  it  was  very  charming ;  and  some 
times  to  barb  a  sarcasm,  and  then  it  was  not  charming,  but  the 
very  reverse,  and  so  it  was  intended  to  be.  We  are  sorry  to  say 
it,  but  then  such  things  do  exist,  in  good  society,  and  among 
loving  hearts,  and  will  be  so,  for  some  time  to  come. 

The  count  entered  into  a  free  conversation  with  Frank,  as  they 
leisurely  walked  along,  on  the  spirit  of  the  age,  which  he  con 
tended  was,  par  excellence,  the  age  of  progress.  He  spoke  of 
motive  power,  especially,  and  its  perfection,  in  this  age  of  steam 
and  gas  ;  of  railroads,  in  contrast  with  the  best  lines  of  stages. 
He  said  he  had  been  for  a  long  time  interested  in  staging  along 
this  road,  and  still  was  largely  interested  in  all  the  various  com 
panies,  but,  as  fast  as  he  could,  he  bought  up  the  stock  and  put 
down  rails ;  "  for,"  said  he,  stopping  and  gesticulating  grace 
fully,  as  he  pointed  to  a  train  of  cars  just  winding  their  way 
through  the  Arc  de  VEtoile,  "  railroads  are  such  thoroughfares ; 
they  carry  at  prices  to  please  everybody;  there  need  be  no 
stoppages  on  the  way ;  it  is  optional,  of  course,  with  travellers 
to  stop  at  the  great  centres,  as  at  Vanity  Fair,  for  example ; 
but,  if  they  prefer  it,  they  can  take  a  sleeping-draught  in  Baby 
lon,  and  wake  up  in  the  Celestial  City.  This  is  commonly  pre 
ferred.  We  have,"  continued  the  count  (as  they  recommenced 
their  walk  forward),  "  cars  for  paupers,  centre  cars  for  common 
folks,  and  cars  of  splendid  rose  and  satin  wood,  lined  with  silk, 


TIIE   COUNT'S  OPINION   OP  RAILROADS.  79 

for  the  aristocracy ;  and  you  know  how  extremely  averse  our 
friends  in  the  upper  circles  are  to  mix  themselves  up  with  every 
body." 

Frank  bowed  his  assent.  It  was  all  the  count  needed,  for  he 
was  becoming  earnest  in  his  tone  and  manner. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  he,  with  one  of  his  peculiar  smiles,  "  I 
have  met  that  sentiment  to  the  utmost;  for  I  have,  beside 
all  I  have  spoken  of,  extra  trains,  and  cars  to  match,  when 
wanted ;  so  that  the  most  entire  seclusion  is  felt,  and,  indeed,  is 
perfectly  attained,  as  though  rails  and  cars,  engines  and  all, 
were  for  the  sole  benefit  of  the  extra  trains ;  and  some  arc  such 
simpletons  as  to  believe  this  monstrous  absurdity."  The  gentle 
man  laughed  heartily  at  the  thought,  and  Frank,  seeing  it  was  a 
matter  of  mirth,  politety  joined  in  the  laugh,  though  he  did  not 
comprehend  the  subject  of  it ;  but  that  is  the  way  With  pil 
grims,  who  are  induced  to  laugh,  and  approve  of  what  they  do  not 
understand,  led  on  by  the  society  in  which  they  find  themselves. 

"  It  is  really  amusing,"  continued  the  gentleman,  "  to  see 
these  extra  trains  when  stopping  at  a  station-house  ;  the  groups 
delighted  with  their  ride,  and  so  glad  they  are  all  by  themselves 
—  no  vulgar  people  to  be  seen." 

"  But  don't  they  stop  at  the  Interpreter's  House  ?  "  asked 
Frank,  somewhat  surprised  that  the  old  resting-places  of  pilgrims 
were  not  spoken  of. 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  the  count ;  "  why  should  they  ? 
When  one  takes  a  seat  in  a  railroad-car,  does  he  ask  about 
the  way  ?  Not  at  all.  It  is  only  the  time  it  takes  to  go  from  one 
place  to  another.  The  valleys  are  all  filled  up,  and  the  hills  are 
tunnelled,  and  the  only  questions  are  those  relating  to  the  time 


80  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

and  cost.  Now,  as  I  have  said,  our  cars  are  for  all  classes,  and 
at  all  prices,  and  they  warrant  to  arrive  at  the  minute ;  and, 
more  than  all,  I  never  !  "  and  here  the  count  stopped,  and  struck 
his  hands  together,  by  way  of  emphasis,  "  I  never,  sir,  make 
any  extra  charge  for  baggage.  Nor  do  I  permit  any  company 
of  mine  to  shirk  off  responsibility  by  the  miserable  fetch  we  see 
on  tickets  of  some  companies  I  could  name,  if  I  chose,  — '  Bay- 
cjage  at  the  risk  of  the  owner S  No,  sir!  no,  sir!  never!  Our 
lines  have  no  extra  charge  for  rich  or  poor  people's  baggage. 
None,  sir !  none  !  " 

Frank  was  greatly  won  by  this  upright,  outright,  and  down 
right  honesty.  It  was  so  unlike  all  the  stage  lines  and  railroad 
and  steamboat  companies  which  he  knew  anything  about,  that 
he  felt  the  count  was  an  honor  to  the  stock  companies  of  which 
he  was  a  member. 

But,  though  Frank  was  deeply  interested  in  all  the  count  had 
to  say,  he  was  not  unobservant  of  what  was  around  and  before 
him. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  arch,  beneath  the  central  towers,  mas 
sive  gates  of  iron  were  thrown  back,  with  a  clang  which  told  the 
weight  of  material  of  which  they  were  wrought.  Once  within 
the  walls,  the  taste  of  the  count  was  revealed.  There  was  every 
variety  of  undulation  in  the  lawns,  little  silver  lakes  of  water, 
clumps  of  trees,  and  marble  statues,  whose  pedestals  were  so 
near  the  ground  that,  as  they  came  in  sight,  by  the  turnings  of 
the  road  winding  up  to  the  chateau,  Frank  stood  at  gaze  to  see 
if  the  lovely  forms  of  females  were  indeed  marble,  or  were 
mortal  beings,  clothed  in  life  and  beauty. 

Trooping  over  the  sward  were  herds  of  deer,  with  their  fawns 


THE   COUNTS   CHATEAU.  81 

bounding  and  playing  on  the  rich  carpet  of  green  grass.  On 
the  rising  ground  stood  the  chateau,  with  wide-spreading  wings 
for  offices  and  conservatories.  The  portico  was  lofty,  and  Corinth 
ian  columns,  intercolumniated,  upheld  the  roof,  on  which  was 
painted,  in  fresco,  Apollo  and  his  attendants.  There  was  a  flight 
of  twenty  steps  to  the  pavement  of  the  spacious  porch,  from 
which  the  whole  sweep  of  country,  and  the  park,  with  its  lawns, 
lakes,  fountains,  and  statues,  were  seen  at  once.  It  was  here 
Frank  found  his  wife,  Annie,  and  Oliver,  seated  in  luxurious 
chairs,  which  had  been  wheeled  out  of  the  grand  hall  of  entrance, 
for  their  comfort,  by  the  servants. 

The  host  stood  with  his  guests,  listening,  with  a  pleased  air 
and  gratified  attention,  to  all  they  could  say  in  admiration  of 
his  taste,  and,  especially,  to  all  that  Annie  had  to  say ;  this 
done,  he  called  their  attention  to  some  points  of  view,  some  com 
binations  of  statuary  and  shadow,  which,  when  pointed  out,  they 
at  once  saw  to  be  beautiful.  One  of  his  servants  now  came  to 
the  door,  and  the  host,  on  seeing  him,  begged  to  be  excused  for 
leaving  them.  Our  pilgrims  gladly  availed  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  of  congratulating  each  other  on  their  good  fortune 
in  finding  such  a  home  for  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

OUll   PILGRIMS   DINE   WITH    COUNT    DE   VILLE. 

WHILE  they  sat  in  their  easy-chairs,  enjoying  the  serenity  of 
the  scene,  a  servant-man  appeared  upon  the  porch,  dressed  all  in 


82  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

white,  which  strongly  contrasted  with  his  Moorish  brown  skin. 
His  eyes  seemed  to  gleam,  as  he  scanned  our  party  and  requested 
them  to  follow  him.  In  the  hall  of  entrance  they  were  received 
by  Count  de  Ville,  who  invited  them  to  their  rooms.  It  was 
a  noble  hall,  full  of  pictures  and  statuary.  They  paused,  to  look 
around  and  admire.  Their  host  then  led  the  way  up  the  grand 
staircase  to  the  second  story,  and,  bowing,  he  pointed  to  an  open 
room  for  Oliver  and  his  wife,  and  on  the  opposite  side  a  room 
in  all  respects  similar,  for  Frank  and  his  wife.  The  count,  bow 
ing,  said,  "  We  shall  sit  down  at  half-past  six,  precisely ;  this  will 
give  you  an  hour."  On  entering  their  rooms,  every  want  was 
anticipated  and  provided  for. 

At  half-past  six,  a  silver  bell  was  jingled  at  their  doors,  and 
they  descended.  Their  host  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  ready 
to  receive  them,  and  offered  his  arm  to  Annie,  who  chanced  to 
come  down  first,  and  led  the  way  to  the  dining-saloon. 

Here  new  wonders  of  art  and  taste  rivetted  their  attention. 
The  pictures,  statuettes,  and  busts  were  all  beautiful,  and  so 
disposed  as  to  produce  the  most  perfect  effect.  They  were  repro 
duced  and  reflected  by  immense  mirrors,  with  which  the  walls 
were  panelled ;  but  the  table,  at  the  instant,  hungry  as  they  all 
were,  was  the  object  of  chief  interest.  It  was  covered  with 
plate  of  the  richest  workmanship,  and  most  exquisite  forms,  sculp 
tured  with  a  skill  which  the  graver  of  Benevenuto  Cellini  could 
not  excel.  Before  every  plate  was  a  little  donkey,  in  whose 
panniers  was  salt,  and  every  donkey  in  some  way  was  unlike 
all  the  others,  and  yet  any  one  would  have  graced  the  cabinet 
of  a  prince.  So  of  every  article  upon  the  table ;  each  was  in 
itself  peculiarly  striking  and  beautiful.  The  vase  on  the  plateau 


THE   COUNT'S   SERVANTS  DESCRIBED.  83 

was  of  golden  filigree-work,  supported  by  the  Graces,  in  gold 
and  silver,  of  workmanship  not  only  beyond  all  they  had  ever 
seen,  but  tasking  their  imaginations  with  its  varied  beauty  and 
effect.  This  was  filled  with  exotic  flowers  just  culled  from  the 
conservatory,  which  exhaled  a  grateful  odor.  The  servants 
also  demanded  their  share  of  wonder.  Five  were  dressed  in 
white  and  silver,  their  coats  and  vests  richly  embroidered,  arid 
the  effect  upon  their  faces  and  eyes  was  wonderful ;  never  were 
there  such  gleaming  eyes  as  these  men  had ;  at  least,  so  thought 
Gertrude.  Five  were  black  as  night,  and  dressed  in  a  full-suit 
uniform,  covered  with  gold  lace,  and  a  marshal's  scarlet  badge 
crossing  their  breasts  from  right  to  left,  tied  over  the  left  hip  with 
ends  deeply  fringed  with  gold.  The  Moorish-visaged  servants 
in  white  attended  to  the  plates,  while  to  these  appalling  Afri 
cans  wras  assigned  the  changing  of  the  wrine-cup  —  a  duty  dis 
charged  with  a  military  flourish  and  precision,  as  they  advanced 
from  and  retired  to  their  stations,  not  unlike  artillerymen  load 
ing  and  firing  a  cannon.  These  men  filled  Annie  with  dread, 
by  their  military  manoeuvres  and  warlike  appearance. 

Although  all  these  objects  of  interest,  curiosity,  and  wonder 
fixed  the  attention  of  our  pilgrims,  in  spite  of  their  good-breed 
ing,  the  count  was  himself  too  well-bred  in  any  way  to  notice 
their  surprise.  His  manner  was  quiet ;  leaving  his  guests  to  his 
servants,  he  said  little,  and  ate  like  a  man  possessed  of  a  quiet 
conscience  and  of  a  good  digestion.  A  valet,  elegantly  dressed 
in  black,  stood  behind  his  chair,  to  whom  he  addressed  a  sentence 
or  two  ;  but  our  guests,  with  all  their  facility  in  language,  did 
not  catch  a  word  they  could  understand.  The  count,  in  this 
way,  authorized  his  guests  in  like  manner  to  talk  with  each  other, 


84  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

sotto  voce;  and  it  added  much  to  the  luxury  of  the  repast  to  have 
all  reserve  thus  quietly  laid  aside,  and  to  be  left  at  liberty  to 
eat  and  drink,  without  thinking  of  the  speeches  to  be  made  to 
keep  up  the  ball  of  conversation.  It  is  really  a  serious  affair 
to  dine  well. 

The  dishes  were  all  foreign  and  various,  but  every  one  of  ex 
quisite  delicacy.  They  ate  by  no  card,  but  by  selection  of  their 
servant,  who,  as  he  changed  one  plate,  presented  another  of  quite 
a  new  pattern,  whether  of  porcelain  or  plate.  So,  also,  the  field- 
marshal  of  the  wine-cup.  Every  glass  sipped  was  withdrawn, 
and  a  new  cup  or  new  glass,  more  beautiful  in  its  sculpture  or  its 
crystal  beauty,  was  placed  before  them ;  and  as,  with  a  flour 
ish,  the  wine  was  poured  out,  the  name  was  announced  by  these 
modern  Ganymedes. 

During  the  dessert,  conversation  gradually  arose  without 
effort.  The  sun's  last  rajs  lit  up  this  saloon,  so  full  of  objects 
of  beauty,  with  radiance.  The  lamps  were  already  lighted,  and, 
as  the  daylight  grew  less,  these  increased  in  intensity  of  light,  so 
that  night  advanced  upon  them  unconsciously.  The  host  now 
began  to  task  his  powers  of  pleasing,  and  soon  a  happy  joyousness 
circled  the  table. 

To  some  remark  made  by  the  count,  contrasting  the  pleasure 
their  presence  gave  him  to  the  gloom  of  being  solitary  and  alone, 
Annie,  in  her  happiest  manner,  said  : 

"  All,  count !  you  have  so  many  things  to  win  the  love  of 
ladies,  that  I  wonder  they  do  not  come  down  from  those  great 
houses  yonder,  and  take  your  chateau  by  storm ;  and  you  would 
then  be  compelled  to  capitulate,  and  purchase  your  liberty 
by  wearing  such  silken  chains  as  they  shall  see  fit  to  impose." 


CONVERSATION   AFTER  DINNER.  85 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  the  host,  "  I  assure  you  the  very 
first  lady  I  had  the  happiness  to  entertain,  after  entering  into 
possession  of  this  property,  was  one  of  the  most  attractive 
beings  I  have  met  with  anywhere.  I  sought  by  all  means  to  win 
her.  She  accepted  my  gifts ;  but  it  was  to  share  them  with  her 
husband." 

"  I  should  think  you  a  very  bad  man,  if  you  sought  to  sepa 
rate  a  wife  from  her  husband  by  any  means,"  said  honest  Annie, 
with  unwonted  earnestness. 

The  host  seemed  astonished.  He  roused  himself,  as  by  a  start, 
so  great  was  his  surprise ;  and,  recovering  himself  gracefully,  he 
spoke  in  a  tone  of  utmost  gentleness,  and,  with  a  smile  almost 
benevolent,  —  he  doubtless  designed  it  should  be  such, —  bowing 
to  Annie,  and  putting  his  hand  upon  his  breast  to  give  every 
possible  force  to  his  words,  said  : 

"  My  dear  madam,  believe  me,  I  never  had  such  a  thought.  I 
pledge  you  my  honor,  I  was  ready  to  adopt  them  both  as  my  own, 
and  to  give  them  all  this  property  ;  "  and,  turning  to  Oliver,  who 
sat  on  his  left,  "  you  see,  sir,  how  little  hope  there  is  of  an  old 
man  like  myself  detaining  any  ladies  here,  when  once  they  have  a 
notion  of  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City.  By  the  way,  are 
you  acquainted  with  any  one  at  Vanity  Fair  who  can  introduce 
you  into  the  best  circles  ?  " 

Oliver  replied,  "  He  supposed  he  should  meet  with  some  of  his 
friends  who  had  gone  on  a  pilgrimage  ;  but  none  who  had  become 
settled  there  for  life." 

"  Then  I  shall  be  glad  to  give  you  letters  of  introduction  to 
some  of  my  friends,"  said  the  count. 

"  We  shall  be  greatly  obliged  to  you,"  said  all. 


86  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

"Will  you  spend  a  week  with  me?"  said  the  count,  with 
a  most  frank  and  winning  manner.  "I  have  some  friends  on 
their  way,  to  whom  I  want  to  introduce  you ;  for  they,  too,  are 
pilgrims." 

Frank  replied,  they  could  not  stop  short  of  the  Interpreter's 
House ;  he  thanked  the  count  for  his  very  distinguished  courtesy 
and  kindness,  but  felt  that  they  must  go  forward  the  next  day. 
The  conversation  then  turning  upon  the  route,  the  count  inti 
mated  it  was  unsuitable  for  persons  of  their  rank  and  refine 
ment  to  be  seen  on  foot ;  and,  seeing  Oliver  was  all  ready  for  a 
discussion,  he  hastened  to  speak  of  Vanity  Fair,  its  churches, 
operas,  theatres,  and  assemblies,  all  so  mixed  up  that  it  was 
quite  confusing,  to  our  ladies  especially.  He  spoke  of  the  De 
lectable  Mountains,  and  the  view  from  them;  also  of  the 
Phalanstery,  and  its  wonderful  results ;  and  would  have  talked  on 
until  midnight,  but,  finding  his  guests  dead  with  fatigue,  he  rose, 
a  movement  they  gladly  met  by  rising.  Four  servants  presented 
themselves,  each  bearing  two  massive  silver  candlesticks  with 
lighted  candles ;  and,  the  count  preceding,  led  the  pilgrims  into 
the  hall  of  the  grand  staircase,  at  the  foot  of  which  he  stood, 
and,  laying  his  hand  on  his  heart,  bowed  profoundly  to  each  as 
they  passed  him,  saying,  "Good-night,  fair  lady;  good-night, 
my  dear  sir,"  as  wives  and  husbands  passed  up  the  stairway  to 
their  chambers. 

Never  were  they  so  wearied  before.  They  said  their  prayers 
hurriedly,  and  hastened  to  their  pillows  completely  worn  out  with 
fatigue.  Only  Annie  had  life  left  to  say  one  word,  which  she 
whispered  into  Oliver's  ear  as  he  was  all  but  lost  in  sleep  ;  but 


PILGRIMS  BREAKFAST  AT  THE   CHATEAU.  87 

the  thought  would  not  stay ;  it  was  too  vivid  in  her  mind  not 
to  be  expressed. 

"  Oliver  !  Oliver  !  I  say,  Oliver  !  listen  to  me  !  "  pulling  him 
by  the  ear  as  she  spoke, —  a  discovery  most  wives  make  as  the 
surest  way  of  being  replied  to  by  sleepy  husbands,  who,  some 
times,  without  some  such  persuasive  method,  cannot  be  made  to 
listen  to  the  most  reasonable  and  necessary  truths. 

"  What  is  it,  dearest  ?  "  said  Oliver. 

"Were  you  not  frightened  at  those  black  slaves,  in  their 
military  dress  and  bright  scarlet  badges  across  their  breasts  ?  I 
was  really  frightened." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Oliver,  in  a  most  sleepy  tone. 

"0,  their  red  sashes  were^o  like  streaks  of  lightning  on  a 
thunder-cloud !  "  said  Annie. 

Oliver  was  fast  asleep. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  PILGRIMS  BREAKFAST  AT  THE  CHATEAU. THE  LIBRARY  OF 

COUNT  DE  VILLE. 

THE  day  was  far  advanced  before  our  friends  awoke  ;  and,  on 
descending  to  the  first  floor,  the  count's  valet  presented  them  a 
pacquet  of  letters,  with  a  message  from  his  master,  expressing 
his  regret  at  being  called  away  on  urgent  business,  and  saying 
the  carriage  was  at  their  service  whenever  it  should  be  ordered 
to  the  door. 


88  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

Their  breakfast-room  was  beautifully  shaded  and  cool.  The 
day  was  bright  and  warm,  so  that  the  subdued  light  of  the  room 
was  in  pleasant  contrast  to  the  fervid  sunshine  on  the  portico, 
where  they  had  been  standing  for  half  an  hour,  admiring  the 
scenery  by  a  morning  light.  This  room  was  unique  in  its  furni 
ture,  and  unlike  the  other  rooms  into  which  they  had  entered. 
It  was  an  oval ;  a  section  of  which  was  part  of  the  external 
wall  of  the  edifice,  so  that  three  windows,  rising  from  the  floor, 
opened  upon  the  flower-garden.  The  pictures  were  all  of  a 
cabinet-size ;  and  these,  with  statuettes,  and  busts,  and  mirrors, 
covered  the  walls.  All  were  so  disposed  that  the  symmetry, 
though  felt,  could  not  be  defined. 

At  the  breakfast,  only  the  M<£Hsh  servants,  in  a  neat,  simple 
white  dress,  waited  upon  them.  Everything  was  pleasing  in  their 
manner  and  appearance  but  their  eyes.  These  were  coal-black  and 
fiendish, —  so  thought  the  ladies.  The  service  was  of  the  purest 
china  and  gold ;  and  the  coffee  was  nothing  less  than  nectar. 
Never  had  they  tasted  anything  so  perfect  before. 

After  breakfast  they  visited  the  saloons,  and  carefully  exam 
ined  the  pictures ;  and  from  the  house  they  walked  into  the 
gardens.  Weary  with  all  they  had  done,  they  ascended  to  the 
library,  a  large  hull  on  the  second  floor,  where  another  surprise 
met  them.  .  It  was  the  extent  of  the  count's  library  and  its  char 
acter.  The  compartments  devoted  to  history  and  literature 
seemed  disproportionate  to  those  filled  with  theology,  church  his 
tory,  and  criticism ;  and  most  of  all  were  they  surprised  at  the 
vastness  of  the  contributions  to  the  count's  library  made  by  the 
Catholic  church ;  and  of  that  church,  those  made  by  the  Jesuit 
fathers. 


THE   COUNT'S  LIBRARY.  89 

Frank  and  Oliver's  attention  was  especially  attracted  to  this 
fact ;  for,  until  now,  they  had  not  known  that  such  men  had  lived. 
On  the  same  side  of  the  library  which  contained  the  writings  of 
Justin  Martyr,  Tertullian,  Clemens  Alexandrinus,  Cyprian, 
Ambrose,  Basil,  Chrysostom,  Peter  Chrysologus,  Gregory  Nazi- 
enzen  and  Gregory  Nyssen,  Augustine,  Jerome,  Leo  the  Great, 
Anselm,  Bernard  Albertus  Magnus,  Bonaventura,  Thomas  Aqui 
nas,  Duns  Scotus,  to  say  nothing  of  all  the  biographies  of  the 
Benedictines,  also  were  found  the  Exerdtia  Christiana  Perfec- 
tionis  of  Rodriguez ;  The  Imitatione  Christi  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis ;  The  Sinner's  Conversion,  by  Salazar ;  The  Spiritual 
Meadow  ;  The  Garden  of  Roses  ;  The  Sinner's  Check-rein,  and 
hundreds  of  the  like,  whose  titles  afforded  our  gentlemen  no  little 
amusement.*  But  next  they  came  to  a  compartment  where  great 
folios  stood  like  a  park  of  heavy  artillery.  There  were  some  of 
the  great  casuists,  as  Bauny,  Escobar,  Emanuel  Sa,  Molina, 
Amicus,  Lessuis,  Fillintius,  Sanchez,  Hurtado,  Azor,  Layman, 
Tambourin,  Tolet,  Dicastillus,  Celot,  Posa,  Rcginaldus,  Maldonet, 
Caramuel,  Petrus  Michael  de  Sauraman,  and  others,  whose 
writings  sanction  every  crime  and  palliate  every  lust  man  and 
woman  can  perpetrate.  Nor  were  these  books,  like  the  busts  over 
the  cases,  merely  for  ornament.  Not  a  volume  was  there  but 
had  paper-marks  in  it,  to  show  it  had  been  consulted. 

Now,  while  Frank  and  Oliver  were  examining  the  books,  our 

*  The  Catholic  church  is  very  rich  in  works  of  this  sort.  Rabelais  (vol. 
i.,  p.  314,  Bolm's  edition)  ridicules  the  taste  of  writers  of  his  day  (A.  D. 
1500)  for  quaint  titles,  in  the  catalogue  he  gives,  in  chap,  vn.,  book  n., 
**  of  the  choice  books  of  the  library  of  St.  Victor,"  found  by  Panta- 
gruel  in  Paris. 

8* 


90  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

ladies  most  naturally  took  upon  themselves  to  examine  the  papers 
and  letters  lying  loose  and  covering  a  long  table.  And  they 
found  no  little  amusement  in  guessing  the  character  of  the  count 
from  what  they  found  lying  before  them.  Here  lay  an  inter 
leaved  copy  of  Den's  Theology,  with  the  count's  interlineations 
and  emendations ;  there,  a  Concio  ad  Clerum  which  he  had 
interlined  extensively,  making  passages  in  it  so  very  nice  by  his 
emendations  that  it  was  utterly  beyond  their  guess  what  it  meant. 
And  here  were  pastoral  letters,  more  or  less  interlined,  and  piles  of 
letters  from  the  Very  Ilev.  Doctor  Pusey,  his  Eminence  the  Car 
dinal  Wiseman,  whom  the  count,  by  a  brief  endorsement  in  pen 
cil,  called  a  very  foolish  man  for  his  course  in  England.  Then,  too, 
there  was  a  letter  from  Henry  of  Exeter,  full  of  wrath  against 
somebody  therein  alluded  to ;  and,  indeed,  all  the  movement  men 
of  the  Anglican  and  Anglo-American  church  seemed  to  hold  a 
very  active  correspondence  with  the  count. 

Annie  picked  up  a  letter  which  lay  on  the  floor,  and  had  been 
trampled  upon.  Amused  by  its  contents,  she  called  Frank  and 
Oliver  to  the  table  to  listen  to  it.  It  read  as  follows : 

**  St.  Bartholomew's  day. 
"  MY   EMINENT   AND   DISTINGUISHED   FRIEND,    COUNT   DE   VlLLE  ! 

"  I  am  at  my  wits'  end  to  find  some  new  way,  suited  to  my 
episcopal  functions,  by  which  to  pay  old  debts.  May  I  beg 
you  to  help  me  out  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  on  a  bond 
payable  without  grace  ?  Something  must  be  done ;  my  creditors 
are  numerous,  taking  in  the  entire  circle,  from  cooks,  confec 
tioners,  butchers,  bakers,  up  to  wine-merchants.  I  really  cannot 
go  up  to  the  city  but  they  follow  my  steps,  and  gaze  on  me  with 


THE  INTERPRETERS'  HOUSES.  91 

an  anxious  earnestness  never  surpassed  by  the  cripple  in  the 
temple  upon  my  worthy  predecessors,  St.  Peter  and  St.  John,  as 
though  I  could  give  them  something !  But,  dear  count,  like 
those  fountains  of  episcopal  power,  rich  in  all  things  else,  '  silver 
and  gold  have  I  none.5  And  now  what  remains  to  me  ?  What 
have  I  left  with  which  to  pay  my  debts,  unaided  and  alone  ? 
Pray  help  me  to  a  reply. 

"  "With  sentiments  of  high  consideration, 

"  Yours,  always, 

"  f  GEORGE." 
This  was  endorsed  in  pencil : 

"  BRASS  ! 

"DE  VlLLE." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THEY   REACH    THE    INTERPRETERS5    HOUSES. 

THE  wheels  of  the  carriage  grinding  the  gravel  now  notified 
our  pilgrims  of  their  departure.  They  had  ordered  it  to  be  at 
the  door  at  one  o5clock.  The  valet  appeared  in  the  library  and 
announced  the  carriage.  They  now  felt  sorry  that  they  had  not 
put  off  the  time  for  an  hour  or  two  later.  With  many  lingering 
looks  at  the  pictures,  the  statues,  and  the  splendid  suites  of  rooms, 
they  took  their  seats  in  the  open  landau,  and  once  more  admired 
the  grounds,  which  stood  well  their  severest  scrutiny  under  a 
noonday  sun.  When  they  reached  the  Gothic  towers,  the  great 
iron  gates  were  once  more  heaved  open  by  the  four  giant  men 


92  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

who  acted  as  porters,  and  the  carriage  swept  through  with  a  loud 
echo  of  the  walls,  and  turned  up  the  road  toward  the  "Arc  de 
VEtoile" —  so  Frank  had  called  it.  As  they  drew  near,  they 
pulled  the  check-string,  wishing  to  examine  it.  The  coach  com 
ing  to  a  stand-still,  Frank  asked  the  driver  the  name  of  this  arch. 

The  man  replied,  "  It  is  called  the  Wicket-Gate." 

"  The  Wicket-Gate  !  "  cried  Oliver  ;  "  where,  then,  is  Castle 
Beelzebub  ?  " 

A  smile,  all  but  a  sneer,  was  on  the  face  of  Jehu  as  he  replied, 
"  0,  that 's  long  since  pulled  down,  sir  !  " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it !  "  said  Frank.  And  then,  addressing 
his  companions  :  "  It  will  never  do  for  us  to  ride  through  the 
Wicket-Gate,  —  we  must  get  out  here."  And,  as  they  alighted, 
Frank  addressed  the  driver  once  more  :  "  Which  of  those  build 
ings  is  the  Interpreter's  House  ?  " 

"  Choose  for  yourself,"  was  Jehu's  reply,  who  smiled  as  he 
wheeled  his  horses  round,  and,  with  a  crack  of  his  whip,  was  gone. 

Our  pilgrims  stood  gazing  up  at  the  arch.  It  was  Egyptian 
in  its  style,  built  of  granite,  bearing  the  symbol  of  eternity  on 
the  plinth.  .  All  was  massive,  and  impressed  awe  on  the  beholder. 

The  houses  of  the  Interpreters  were  three  in  number.  The 
one  nearest  was  separated  by  a  wide  ravine  from  two  others, 
which  stood  near  to  each  other.  They  all  had  tall  sign-posts, 
with  sign-boards  swinging,  on  which  their  symbols  were  painted. 

"  Can  it  be,"  asked  Frank,  "  that  vre  have  reached  the  Three 
Taverns,  where  Paul  met  his  friends,  and  thanked  God  and  took 
courage  ?  I  hope  it  may  be  so  in  our  experience." 

"  I  rather  think  not,"  said  Oliver. 

"  They  are  all  grand-looking  buildings,"  said  Annie ;  "  and,  I 


HE   TREMONT   HOUSE.  93 

take  it,  a  good  tavern  is  always  considered  by  travellers  a  good 
subject  for  thanksgiving." 

"  Time  has  surprisingly  changed  the  aspects  of  this  route 
since  Bunyan  wrote,"  said  Frank. 

."  I  have  no  idea  he  ever  came  over  this  road  at  all,"  said 
Gertrude. 

"  Let  us  go  on,"  said  Frank ;  and  they  soon  came  so  near 
as  to  scan  the  sign  of  the  first,  which  bore  the  name,  in  gilt  let 
ters,  of  "  Tremont  House."  The  picture  on  the  sign  was  a  crys 
tal  vase  of  floating  island.  And  here  we  will  describe  this  house. 

The  Tremont  House,  as  it  stood  before  them,  wore  an  attract 
ive  appearance.  It  was  modern  in  its  style,  and  encircled  by  a 
spacious  veranda.  It  had  been  built,  as  they  afterwards  were 
told,  on  the  naked  granite,  and  was  then  only  one  story  in  height. 
But,  about  fifty  years  before,  the  children  of  the  family,  not 
finding  it  suited  to  their  taste,  by  the  aid  of  jack-screws  and  like 
contrivances,  had  raised  it  up  into  the  air,  and  put  piles  under  it, 
which,  being  lathed  and  plastered,  and  dyed  and  spotted,  made, 
at  a  distance,  a  very  excellent  imitation  of  hammered  granite. 
These  changes  were  much  opposed  by  the  old  folks ;  but  the 
young  ones  would  have  it  all  their  own  way,  and  still  they  were 
not  satisfied,  for  many  of  them  wished  the  old  house  was  burnt 
down  to  the  ground ;  for  then,  they  said,  they  would  rebuild  it 
in  accordance  with  the  inarch  of  modern  improvement. 

In  this  respect,  the  other  hotels  were  entirely  different.  The 
Hotel  d'ltalia  was  an  ancient  building,  and  greatly  resembled  a 
modern  structure  built  after  an  antique  fashion,  for  "  the  diffusion 
of  knowledge  among  mankind,"  which  ignorant  persons  have 
insisted  was  a  sort  of  architectural  castor,  placed  on  the  table- 


94  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

land  of  tne  city,  containing  a  miscellaneous  collection  of  mustard- 
pots  and  pepper-boxes ;  and  which,  to  show  the  wonderful  skill 
of  the  architect,  who  is  well  known  for  his  Gothic  structures,  fell, 
under  his  hands,  into  a  heap  of  ruins.  This  remarkable  event 
stands  unrivalled  in  the  history  of  architecture,  —  a  modern 
building,  of  an  antique  fashion,  falling  into  ruins  in  the  process 
of  erection !  No  wonder  his  name  has  become  famous  in  the 
annals  of  Babylon !  The  Hotel  d'ltalia  bore  the  sign  of  the 
Roman  cross,  with  a  crown  of  thorns  around  it ;  and  the  Oxford 
Tavern,  as  it  was  called,  was  so  very  like  it  in  external  appear 
ance,  that  our  pilgrims,  at  first,  thought  it  was  all  one  and  the 
same  edifice ;  but  they  found,  on  a  nearer  view,  there  was  no 
actual  connection,  though  one  wing  of  this  building  was  so  very 
close  to  it  as  to  admit  a  wire-drawn  bridge  to  be  stretched  across 
the  space  out  of  the  upper  stories.  This  wire  bridge,  being  painted 
sky-blue,  at  a  little  distance  could  not  be  seen,  it  was  so  like  the 
sky,  or  a  gossamer  web ;  but,  by  frequent  experiment,  it  was 
found  able  to  bear  very  weighty  and  eminent  persons,  who  held 
constant  intercourse  with  the  residents  of  Hotel  d'ltalia.  Such, 
however,  was  the  competition  between  these  rival  houses  that  this 
was  not  done  openly,  but  always  in  the  dark.  These  "  perverts," 
as  they  were  called,  were  attracted  by  the  high  wines  and  liqueurs 
distilled  and  drank  freely  by  the  habitues  of  the  d'ltalia ;  and 
they  really  went  so  far  as  to  propose  to  knock  down  the  end  of 
the  partition-walls  in  the  wings,  and  unite  the  two  houses,  placing 
them  under  the  same  governing  head,  with  a  general  supervision 
only ;  but  the  proprietor  of  Hotel  d'ltalia  would  consent  to  no 
union  of  the  sort.  The  symbol  of  the  Oxford  Tavern  had 
never  been  agreed  upon.  In  former  days,  it  was  held  to  be  a 


ME.    INTERPRETER   IIOPEWELL.  95 

bowl  of  hot  punch ;  the  handle  of  the  ladle  was  seen  over  the 
end  of  the  bowl ;  above,  a  cloud  of  vapor  gracefully  curled.  But 
the  more  recent  opinion,  and  that  which  obtained  in  the  day  of 
our  pilgrims,  was,  that  it  symbolized  a  tureen  of  turtle  soup ; 
the  ladle  being  equally  necessary  for  soup  as  for  punch.  The 
symbols  of  the  Tremont  House  and  Oxford  Tavern,  however  sig 
nificant  to  antiquarians  and  ecclesiologists,  were  to  most  persons 
as  dark  as  the  glyphs  on  the  Luxor  obelisk  to  the  people  of  Paris. 
As  our  pilgrims  approached  the  Tremont  House,  the  appear 
ance  of  the  company  upon  the  veranda  was  eminently  attractive ; 
and,  having  no  better  motive  to  govern  them,  they  determined  to 
put  up  at  this  home  of  the  Puritan  Fathers. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE   PILGRIMS   11EACII    THE   TREMONT   HOUSE. 

WE  have  anticipated  somewhat  the  knowledge  subsequently 
acquired  by  our  pilgrims,  and  have  advised  our  readers  of  what 
they  then,  and  for  some  time  afterwards,  were  ignorant. 

Frank  and  his  party  were  met  by  a  clerical-looking  gentleman 
at  the  entrance,  who  introduced  himself  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tollman, 
and  to  him  they  introduced  each  other.  He  led  them  into  a  sit 
ting-room,  and  went  for  the  host,  whom  he  presented  as  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Hopewell.  Frank,  addressing  these  gentlemen,  told  them 
they  were  a  party  of  pilgrims  in  search  of  the  Interpreter's  House. 
The  host  smiled  very  kindly,  and  said  he  should  be  gratified  to 


96  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

render  them  any  aid  in  his  power ;  and  both  the  host  and  Mr. 
^Tollman  expressed  their  pleasure  that  the  TreniQ4at.House  should 
have  their  preference. 

"  How  do  you  purpose  to  reach  the  Celestial  City  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Tollman. 

"  We  purpose  to  follow  the  Guide-book,"  said  Frank. 

"  Indeed  !  That  path  has  somewhat  fallen  into  disuse,  and  I 
doubt  if  even  honest  John  himself  could  now  find  it  out,"  said 
Mr.  Tollman. 

"  We  are  sorry  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Frank;  "but  if  it 
can  be  traced,  we  mean  to  do  so." 

"  Certainly  !  "  said  Mr.  Tollman.  And,  turning  to  the  Inter 
preter  (as  our  pilgrims  regarded  the  host),  he  said,  aloud,  "How 
very  refreshing  !  "  and  added  in  a  whisper,  which  Annie  caught, 
"  How  remarkably  green !  " 

Frank  inquired  if  the  hill  they  had  come  through  was  called 
the  Hill  Difficult,  and  was  told  it  was  so  verj-  like  it  that  the 
tunnel  had  been  cut,  at  great  cost  and  labor,  as  equally  conve 
nient  and  necessary  for  travellers.  Annie  asked  if  the  great 
building  next  to  them  was  the  Palace  Beautiful,  and  if  those 
young  ladies,  Piety,  Prudence,  and  Charity,  lived  there.  At  this 
Mr.  Tollman  could  hardly  keep  his  countenance ;  and  the  Inter 
preter,  in  an  amiable  tone,  replied  :  "  My  dear  friends,  those  are 
opposition  houses  to  our  hotel,  and,  indeed,  they  are  rivals  of  each 
other.  Those  who  love  the  mediaeval  style  call  them  beautiful ; 
but  they  are  ill-contrived,  and  have  none  of  the  modern  improve 
ments.  As  for  those  young  ladies  you  speak  of,  they  kept  up  a 
*  House  for  Pilgrims '  a  great  distance  off,  —  a  long  way  beyond 
here,  —  years  ago,  which  was  called  '  The  Palace  Beautiful ; '  but 


THE  CAMBRIDGE  HOURLY  AND  ROXBURY  OMNIBUS.  97 

after  so  many  houses  of  entertainment  were  opened  this  side  of 
them,  they  became  discouraged,  arid,  taking  their  porter  and  lions, 
they  set  out  for  the  Celestial  City,  where  you  will  find  them.  As 
for  the  house  itself,  it  has  long  time  since  rotted  down  to  the 
ground." — To  all  which  Mr.  Tollman  bowed  his  acquiescence. 

The  silence  of  our  friends  touched  the  sympathy  of  Mr.  Toll 
man,  who  bade  them  rejoice  "  that  the  lines  had  fallen  to  them  in 
pleasant  places."  "  I  refer,"  said  he,  "  to  the  underground  rail 
road,  so  called  from  the  numerous  tunnels  of  the  way.  By  taking 
an  omnibus,  in  two  hours  you  can  reach  the  station-house,  and 
arrive  at  Vanity  Fair  by  sundown." 

Our  pilgrims  made  no  reply ;  but  now  began  to  understand 
that  the  way  to  the  Celestial  City,  out  of  Babylon,  is  very  different 
from  the  way  out  of  the  City  of  Destruction ;  and  this  caused  a 
feeling  of  great  perplexity.  So  soon  was  their  joy  obscured  by 
doubt ! 

"  Shall  I  show  you  the-  rooms  we  have  vacant  ?  "  said  the  In 
terpreter,  rousing  them  from  their  reverie. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Frank,  "  by  all  means.  And  let  us 
have  a  private  parlor,  if  possible." 

Rooms  every  way  pleasant  for  sight  and  for  comfort,  with  a 
large  private  parlor,  were  duly  selected  and  agreed  on.  They 
fronted  the  Wicket-Grate,  and  commanded  a  fine  view  of  the 
Chateau  de  Ville  and  the  country  around. 

There  were  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  guests  at  table  in  the 
dining-hall,  whose  appearance  showed  them  to  be,  for  the  most 
part,  of  the  gay  and  fashionable  circles  of  Bostonia  and  its  vicin 
ity,  and  from  Babylon.  Towards  sunset,  the  Roxbury  omnibus 
came  out  crowded :  returning,  it  took  as  many  back  as  it  brought 
9 


98  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

out,  as  did  the  Cambridge  line  of  coaches.  This  Cambridge 
•  ;  •*  •  line  was  poorly  sustained  since  the  Roxbury  opposition  line 
had  been  set  up.  Those  who  came  out  in  the  "  Cambridge 
Hourly  "  were  elderly  people,  both  men  and  women,  and  maidenly 
ladies  who  wore  caps.  Day  after  day,  as  these  lines  drove  up, 
they  attracted  the  attention  of  Frank  and  Oliver,  who  wondered 
that  the  proprietors  of  the  Cambridge  coaches  should  keep  up  a 
line  evidently  running  itself  into  the  ground. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

OP  THE  INTERPRETERS'  HOUSES. 

THE  Oxford  Tavern  and  Hotel  d'ltalia  were  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  off,  on  the  other  side  of  the  deep  ravine  we  have  spoken 
of.  As  this  had  never  been  bridged  over,  neither  the  Hotel- 
d'ltalia  nor  Oxford-Tavern  guests  held  any  intercourse  with 
those  of  the  Tremont  House.  One  road  led  up  to  the  Tremont 
House,  and  another  to  the  Hotel  d'ltalia  and  Oxford  House. 
But,  though  they  all  came  through  the  Wicket-Gate,  so  called, 
they  separated  at  that  point. 

We  will  here  say  that  the  old  "  Slow-and-Sure  "  Oxford  coach 
came  regularly  to  the  minute,  and  showed  more  arrivals  than 
the  Cambridge  Hourly.  The  clerics  were  easily  known  by  the 
cut  of  their  coats,  fashioned  after  the  pattern  worn  by  Doctor 
Upatree.;  and  the  young  lady  travellers  were  marked  by  their 
fashion,  and  by  a  pious  air,  such  as  the  Saints  of  the  Annuncia- 


THE  ROLL  OF  THE  TREMONT  HOUSE.        99 

tion  wear  on  Sundays,  and  during  Lent.  But  the  Roman  line 
was  always  full-  on  the  outside,  though  the  inside  was  rarely 
crowded.  These  last  were  persons  of  fashion  and  refinement, 
but  the  outsiders  were  Irish,  Germans,  and  Swiss,  new  to  the 
country,  and  to  whom  all  was  as  strange  as  new.  Frank  was 
one  day  walking  around  the  Hotel  d'ltalia,  when  an  Irisher  came 
out  of  the  basement  story,  where  this  class  of  travellers  dined, 
pell-mell ;  coming  up  the  steps,  in  a  great  passion,  the  man  cried 
out,  "  Poor  benighted  hathen  !  " 

"  Why  benighted,  Patrick  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Poor  hathen  divils  !  they  don't  know  how  to  cook  praties 
here." 

"  Indeed,  Patrick,  very  few  know  how  to  cook  praties*  any 
where,"  replied  Frank. 

Our  pilgrims  noticed  that  guests  of  the  Tremont  House,  whether 
they  returned  to  Bostonia,  or  took  the  omnibus  which  transported 
passengers  to  the  station-house  of  the  underground  railroad, 
had  no  badges  of  any  sort,  nor  rolls ;  but,  having  paid  their  bills, 
they  either  tore  them  up  or  carelessly  pocketed  them ;  and  yet, 
these  were  the  only  rolls  known  to  such  pilgrims.  A  young 
gentleman  presented  his  to  Annie,  saying,  "  Here  is  a  certificate 
for  you;  make  good  use  of  it;  I  don't  want  it,  as  I  go  back  to 
Bostonia  direct."  It  was  an  elegantly  engraved  tavern-bill. 
At  the  top  was  a  perspective  view  of  the  Celestial  City,  seen 
resting  on  the  clouds,  and  it  read  thus  : 

*  Some  years  since,  the  cook  of  the  Carlton  Club-House  died,  and 
applicants  from  every  city  on  the  continent  appeared.  A  committee 
examined  them  as  to  their  qualifications.  The  first  question  asked  the 
astonished  artiste  was  this  :  "  Do  you  know  how  to  cook  a  potato  ? " 


100  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"HENRY  ALLEN  GOODIIUE,  ESQ.,  TO  TREMONT  HOUSE: 
"  For  Entertainment, $35  00. 

"  Received  payment, 

"  THOMAS  HOPEWELL,  Treasurer" 
And  under  this,  in  old  English  text,  these  words  : 

"  ^Directions  to  -JPiljjTims  floiitfl  to  t|je  (ftdestial  <£fttj — 

3£eep  to  t&e  riflfjt  as  ttje  3Lato  Streets." 
As  these  pilgrims'  rolls  were  objects  of  great  interest  to  our 
travellers,  they  made  special  inquiry  as  to  them,  and  we  here 
state  the  result  of  their  observations  and  inquiries.  The  Oxford 
rolls  contained  a  certificate  of  their  baptism  and  confirmation. 
These  were  written  on  parchment,  and  tied  with  ribbons.  The 
llomans  had  these,  and  beside  these,  the  certificate  of  their  first 
communion,  which  their  young  ladies  especially  prided  them 
selves  in,  greatly,  as  they  were  now  eligible  to  enter  upon  married 
life.  Nor  in  this  were  they  left  behind  by  the  fair  pietists  of 
the  Oxford  Tavern  ;  for,  as  in  the  pocket  Bibles  of  old  Christians 
the  worn  edges  of  the  leaves  show  you  at  a  glance  where  to  find 
the  Psalms  of  David,  so,  in  the  Prayer-book  of  these  ladies  the 
tarnish  of  the  gilt  points  you  to  "  the  Service  of  the  Holy  Sacra 
ment  of  Matrimony,"  in  proof  that  they  too  gave  this  subject 
their  careful  study.  Indeed,  one  of  their  young  girls  one  day 
asked  Annie  to  tell  her  what  was  the  meaning  of  the  words, 
where  the  minister  declares  the  parties  married  "  Man  and  wife." 
She  had  been  puzzling  herself  to  guess  what  wonderful  transform 
ation  came  over  the  groom.  With  a  simplicity  and  earnestness 
indescribably  amusing  to  Annie,  she  asked,  "  What  was  he 
before  ?  "  Annie  smothered  her  laugh  in  kisses,  and  said  :  "  Dear 
girl,  he  was  nobody.  The  Prayer-Book  teaches  you  the  great 


WOMAN'S  EIGHTS  CONVENTION.  101 

truth,  it  takes  a  wife  to  make  a  man."  A  reply  which  saved 
Annie  from  all  further  questionings  on  this  head.  And  now 
we  will  introduce  our  readers  to  the  acquaintances  made  by  our 
travellers  during  their  sojourn  at  the  Tremont  House. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THEY   DINE   WITH    SOME    STRONG-MINDED   WOMEN. 

IT  so  happened  that  several  important  anniversary  meetings 
were  about  to  come  off,  and  the  Interpreter  of  the  Tremont 
House  was  greatly  pressed  with  his  duties.  He  excused  himself, 
therefore,  from  devoting  his  time  to  our  pilgrims,  as  they  hoped 
he  would.  Mr.  Hopewell  introduced  them  to  many  of  the 
guests,  by  whom  they  were  received  with  kindness  and  courtesy. 
A  meeting  was  about  to  be  held  at  the  Tremont  Hotel,  prelim 
inary  to  the  "Woman's  Rights  Convention;"  and  the  house 
rapidly  filled  up  with  very  eminent  ladies  and  gentlemen,  whose 
hearts  were  alive  to  the  melancholy  condition  of  women. 

Our  pilgrims  found  plenty  of  occupation  in  the  new  circles 
into  which  they  had  entered.  They  almost  thought  themselves 
among  the  best  circles  of  ancient  Athens ;  for,  like  those  people, 
the  topic  of  interest  was  "  some  new  thing."  The  more  odd, 
absurd,  and  startling  to  all  received  opinions,  the  better ;  and  if 
it  should  be  suggested  as  a  doubt  that  all  the  experience  of 
antiquity  had  been  just  tne  other  way,  the  answer  was  at  hand, 
"  so  much  the  worse  for  antiquity."  There  was  no  depth  they 
9* 


102  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

could  not  sound,  no  infinity  they  could  not  measure,  and  no 
obvious  fact  they  could  not  ignore.  Nothing  could  be  more 
various  than  their  subjects  of  discourse,  within  the  range  of 
topics  they  deemed  worth  their  notice ;  the  chief  of  which,  we 
may  here  say,  was  the  last  lecture,  the  newest  poem,  or  the  new 
est  revelation  of  the  Seer  of  Poughkcepsie,  or  the  last  rappings 
of  the  Rappers. 

A  Among  the  latest  arrivals  whose  coming  produced  a  sensation 
among  the  guests,  was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spearum ;  Mrs.  Deborah 
Samson,  a  splendid,  able-bodied,  as  well  as  strong-minded  woman ; 
Mrs.  Emily  Cutting,  a  charming  person  to  look  at ;  Mrs.  Schmidt, 
an  earnest  lady,  from  Tubingen,  very  latitudinarian  in  her  opin 
ions  ;  and  Mrs.  Doctor  Harry  Hunter,  who,  though  given  to  the 
practice  of  medicine,  for  herself,  in  every  turn  of  her  face, 
said,  "  Throw  physic  to  the  dogs  !  I  '11  none  of  it."  In  company 
with  these  ladies,  there  came  their  shadows,  a  set  of  retainers  who 
follow  them  in  all  their  peregrinations  in  "  the  new  crusade." 
Among  other  guests  who  happened  in,  was  an  honorable  senator 
of  the  States-General,  and  his  lady,  with  whom  our  pilgrims 
formed  a  most  pleasant  acquaintance.  His  humor  was  infinite, 
and  his  good-nature  beamed  from  his  full,  frank,  honest  face.  It 
was  a  long  summer's  day  where  he  was.  When  told  of  the  pre 
liminary  meeting  of  the  Woman's  Rights  Convention  to  be  held 
at  the  Tremont,  the  honorable  senator  requested  our  friends 
to  be  present ;  for,  as  they  all  thought  the  women  were  among  the 
oppressed,  he  hoped  Frank  and  Oliver  would  each  make  a  speech 
on  the  occasion.  He  insisted  upon  it ;  said  he  should  certainly 
speak,  and  begged  them  to*  do  so ;  until  Oliver  really  began  to 
feel  a  desire  to  hear  his  own  voice  in  a  public  meeting. 


DINNER  AT  THE  TREMONT  HOUSE.  103 

The  Interpreter  gave  a  dinner  in  his  private  parlor  to  a  few 
select  friends,  on  the  day  prior  to  the  meeting,  and  invited  our 
friends  to  meet  them,  which  was  gladly  accepted.  They  were 
introduced  at  this  time  to  Mrs.  Samson,  Mrs.  Cutting,  Mrs. 
Schmidt,  and  Mrs.  Harry  Hunter;  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spearum, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Dodge,  who,  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tollman,  and  them 
selves,  made  up  the  party.  Of  the  gentlemen  we  have  nothing 
to  say,  but  shall  let  them  speak  for  themselves. 

During  dinner  the  conversation  was  general,  but  gradually 
grew  to  be  special,  coming  closer  and  closer  to  subjects  familiar      >^ 
to  themselves ;  as,  when  Dr.  Spearum  spoke  of  the  last  general        ^ 
convention,  recently  held,  and  the  tendency  of  a  certain  person 
towards  the  stupidities  of  the  Puritan  Fathers.     Mr.  Tollman     ^vT 
feared  brother  Hammett  had  hazarded  a  little  too  much  when  he 
expressed    his  painful  astonishment  that  the  Bible  had    been      /^ 
called  "  the  word  of  God,"  saying,  "  this  is  the  most  pernicious  * 
phrase  that  could  be  used."     The  Rev.  Dr.  Dodge  then  argued 
that  the  book  of  Esther  could  not  be  the  word  of  God,  because      v. 
it  did  not  mention  the  name  of  God  once,     Mrs.  Samson  begged 
to  save  Esther  from  any  reproach ;  she  thought,  of  all  the  sacred  OK 
books,  falsely  so  called,  that  was  one  to  be  saved.     The  Rev.       j 
Dr.  Spearum  said,  Dr.  Hammett  was,  in  his  opinion,  to  be  com 
mended.     He  had  himself,  not  long  since,  in  a  lyceum  lecture, 
delivered  in  the  ancient  borough  of  cordwainers,  held  that  "  the      ^N. 
character  of  God  could  not  be  learned  from  his  Word ;  and, 
further,  that  that  Word  can  be  taken  for  truth  only  so  far  as  it 
has  been,  and  not  until  it  has  been,  verified  by  the  works  of 
nature;    and  he  contended  for  the  truth  of  the  old  proverb, 
*  actions  speak  louder  than  words,'  and  God's  actions  or  works 
were  infallible,  but  his  Word  was  not." 


104  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

"  If  this  be  so,  sir,"  said  Oliver,  "  you  must  have  left  your 
hearers  to  the  inference  that  '  none  but  scientific  men,  read  and 
skilled  in  physical  science,  have  satisfactory  means  of  the  knowl 
edge  of  God.'  " 

"Not  so  fast,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  doctor;  "I  said,  not 
satisfactory,  but  perfect  means ;  for  I  hold,  that  '  true  religion 
originates  in  the  study  of  Nature;  and  that  revelation  cannot 
be  understood  without  the  aid  of  natural  science.  For  the  reve 
lations  of  Nature  cannot  be  suppressed,  interdicted,  or  mutilated, 
defaced,  or  worn  out.  And,  while  the  world  stands,  they  must 
remain  the  first  and  last  of  all  the  revelations  of  God,  —  that,  by 
which  all  other  revelations  must  be  tried,  and  before  which  all 
others  must  stand  or  fall,  as  they  agree  or  conflict  with  each 
other.' " 

"  Permit  me  to  ask,"  continued  Oliver,  as  querist,  "  in  what 
*  condition  do  you  leave  the  vast  family  of  mankind,  even  in  this 
land  of  ours?  They  are  as  ignorant  of  all  sciences  as  the 
common  people  of  Athens  were  of  the  fine-spun  philosophies  of 
the  Academy  and  Porch ;  they  know  nothing,  and  at  no  future 
time  can  they  know  much,  of  Geology  or  Ethnology.  And  when 
they  find  the  teachings  of  God's  Word,  as  to  the  origin  of  the 
race,  upheld  by  Linnceus,  "Leibnitz,  Buffon,  Humboldt,  Blumen- 
bach,  Cuvicr,  Pritchard,  Owen,  Smith,  and  Bachman,  and 
opposed  by  Agassiz,  Morton,  Van  Ainridge,  Nott,  and,  last  and 
least,  the  Egyptologist  Consul  at  Cairo,  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Samson,  with  a  beautiful 
laugh,  which  was  sure  to  conciliate,  and  almost  to  conquer ;  "it 
is  not  possible,  my  dear  Mr.  Outright,  that  you  believe  the 
Primer  when  it  says,  — 


THE   CATHOLIC  DOCTRINE   OF  RESERVE.  105 

*  In  Adam's  fall 
We  sinned  all.'  " 

"  Yes,  madam,"  replied  Oliver,  "  that 's  my  present  belief." 

A  look  of  surprise  went  round  the  table.  Oliver  continued  : 
"  I  think,  madam,  with  Dr.  Smyth,  '  the  Gospel  must  stand  or 
fall  with  the  doctrine  of  the  Unity  of  the  Human  Race.'  "  * 

"  In  God's  name,  let  it  fall,  then  !  "  exclaimed  the  earnest 
lady ;  "  I  have  no  wish  to  be  kin  either  to  a  negro  or  a  baboon." 

"  Pardon  me,  madam,"  said  Dr.  Dodge,  with  almost  as  much 
earnestness  as  the  lady  herself;  "  We  have  taken  the  negro 
question  under  our  special  care,  and  this  language  of  yours 
would  sound  very  strangely  in  our  next  Anti-slavery  Convention." 

This  remark  induced  quite  a  pause. 

"  I  think,"  said  the  Interpreter,  "  we  should,  whatever  may 
be  our  opinions,  and  however  confident  we  may  be  of  their 
truth,  follow  the  example  of  our  venerated  fathers,  in  the  manner 
of  bringing  in  opinions  at  war  with  those  generally  received." 

"  I  should  be  much  gratified,  sir,"  said  Frank,  "  if  you  would 
relate  the  conduct  of  the  fathers  to  whom  you  allude." 

"  It  would  be  repeating  what  most  of  my  guests  would  regard 
as  a  twice-told  tale  ;  in  one  word,  then,  as  was  said  by  the  sun 
of  our  theology,  when  speaking  of  his  settlement,  in  1803,  over 
the  Federal-street  parish,  where  he  began  his  brilliant  career,  it 
was  'by  most  scrupulously  abstaining  from  every  expression 
which  could  be  construed  into  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
Trinity.' " 

*"The  Unity  of  the  Human  Race,"  by  Thomas  Smyth,  D.D.  New 
York.  1850. 


106  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  I  only  wish  he  had  ended  as  he  began,"  said  Mrs.  Samson. 

"  Do  you  doubt  it,  madam  ?  "  said  the  host,  with  an  offended 
air. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do  !  "  replied  Mrs.  Samson. 

"  And  on  what  ground,  madam  ?  "  asked  the  host. 

"  You  shall  judge  for  yourself,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Samson. 
"  I  happened  to  be  at  Lenox,  in  1842,  when  he  addressed  us  at 
an  anniversary  of  West  Indian  Emancipation,  in  these  words  : 
'  The  doctrine  of  grace  reveals  the  Infinite  Father  imparting  his 
Holy  Spirit,  the  best  he  can  impart,  to  the  humblest  being  that 
implores  it.'  Docs  not  that  smack  of  the  Trinity?  Nor  is  this 
all.  He  said  further :  '  The  doctrine  of  the  "Word  made  flesh 
shows  us  God  uniting  himself  in  a  human  form,  for  the  very  end 
of  making  us  partakers  of  his  own  perfection.'  Is  that  mean 
ingless,  and  intended  to  be  so,  or  what  does  it  mean  ?  And, 
as  a  climax,  he  closed  thus :  '  Come,  Friend  and  Saviour  of  the 
race,  who  didst  shed  thy  blood  on  the  cross,  to  reconcile  man 
to  man  and  earth  to  heaven ! '  You  may,  perhaps,  be  able  to 
reconcile  all  this  with  his  calling  the  cross  of  Christ  '  the  central 
gallows  of  the  universe ;  '  but  I  have  never  found  man  or 
woman  who  has  ever  yet  attempted  it." 

There  was  a  pause  ;  matters  were  getting  tangled. 

"  May  I  ask,  sir,"  said  Frank,  addressing  the  host,  "  what 
you  deem  to  be  the  basis  of  belief  at  the  Tremont  House  ?  " 

The  Interpreter  brightened  up  at  once,  with  the  air  of  one 
suddenly  released  from  embarrassment,  and,  with  a  benevolent 
smile,  replied : 

"  That,  my  dear  sir,  was  laid  down  in  the  first  number  of  our 
Christian  Examiner,  which  has  ever  since  been  regarded  as  the 


THE  SENTIMENTS  OF  AN  EARNEST  LADY.    107 

exponent  of  our  faith,  in  these  remarkable  words  :  '  He  believed 
enough,  who  believed  no  more  than  the  humanity  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  who  deemed  the  allusions  to  evil  spirits  to  be  a 
mere  indulgence  of  the  language  of  popular  superstition ' ;  in 
other  words,  there  was  no  devil !  " 

"  And  was  that  all?"  exclaimed  the  earnest  lady  of  Germany. 
"  Why,  the  devil  was  ignored  by  us  half  a  century  since." 

"  Doubtless,"  said  the  host,  with  something  like  a  sneer,  "  we 
are  a  century  behind  you  in  progress.  We  have  not  yet  adopted 
your  belief  that  man  is  the  only  God,  or  humanity  is  alone 
divine.  Ladies  have  held  this  opinion  privately  ;  but  it  has  only 
recently  been  avowed  in  our  pulpits." 

"  And  do  you  hope  to  set  bounds  to  progress,  and  say  to  free 
dom  of  intellect,  '  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  and  no  farther '  ?  Let 
me  tell  you,  reverend  and  dear  sir,"  continued  the  earnest  lady, 
most  warmly,  "  there  is  no  such  thing  as  fixity  of  faith.  Our 
belief  must  depend  on  a  thousand  and  one  accidents  of  family, 
condition,  country;  and,  once  for  all,  I  have  to  say  this,  —  the 
Catholic  doctrine  of  reserve,  in  matters  of  faith,  practised  in  the 
early  history  of  this  house,  was  equally  deceptive  and  disgraceful." 

"  My  dear  lady,"  said  Mr.  Tollman,  in  his  soft,  persuasive 
tone,  slightly  nasal,  which  added  to  its  sanctity,  "  it  is  unwise 
thus  to  speak  your  opinions  before  those  who  may  chance,  per 
haps,  to  be  weak  in  the  faith.  We  should  follow  the  counsel  of 
Paul " * 

"  Paul !  Paul !  "  interrupted  the  earnest  lady,  "  I  hate  the 
name  of  Paul.  I  regard  him  as  the  Apostle  of  Servitude  ;  who, 
not  only  held  the  Unity  of  Races,  but  denied  the  rights  of 
woman.  There 's  no  such  bigot  as  this  same  Paul !  " 


108  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    CONVERSATION    AFTER   DINNER. 

FRANK,  to  change  the  subject,  asked  the  Interpreter,  "  What 
were  the  present  prospects  of  the  Trcmont  House  ?  "  The  com 
pany  were  evidently  gratified  by  the  tact  and  courtesy  on  the 
part  of  Frank,  in  saving  them  from  a  dinner-table  controversy. 

"  I  regret,  my  young  friends,"  said  the  host,  bowing  to  Frank 
and  the  ladies,  "  that  this  house  is  not  what  it  once  was.  When 
I  took  it,  we  were  of  one  mind,  united  and  happy  ;  but,  in  con 
sequence  of  a  change  of  hands  of  our  stock,  many  of  the  old 
proprietors  selling  out  and  new  ones  buying  in, — matters  have  so 
altered  that  I  have  little  control  of  it  now.  The  Roxbury  Omni 
bus  has  tended  greatly  to  the  loss  of  our  respectability  ;  and  now, 
the  only  result  we  have  to  dwell  upon  with  unalloyed  compla 
cency  is  the  modifying  influence  we  have  exerted  over  the  opin 
ions  of  pilgrims  and  preachers  belonging  to  other  houses.  The 
old  fountains  of  Calvinism  have  been  so  mixed  and  altered  by 
artesian  wells  of  limestone  we  have  opened  into  them,  that  they 
are,  for  the  most  part,  brackish,  and  have  become  what,  in  com 
mon  parlance,  is  called  '  milk  and  water.'  " 

"  Will  you  please  explain  to  us  how  this  was  done  ?  "  asked 
Annie. 

The  host  bowed  and  smiled.  "  33y  liberalizing  our  Christian 
ity.  In  order  to  head  us  off,  the  Orthodox,  as  we  call  them, 
Bought  to  sugar  their  dogmas  till  they  became  all  sugar.  '  The 
offence  of  the  cross,'  to  use  the  phrase  of  Paul,  has  well-nigh 
ceased.  In  this  contest,  we  could  always  go  beyond  them  ;  but, 


THE   DOCTRINE    OF   RESERVE.  109 

alas !  that  I  should  live  to  say  it,  our  sons  have  gone  as  far 
ahead  of  us  as  we  of  the  Orthodox ;  and  we  must  join  the 
'  movement  party,'  or  become  extinct,  leaving  to  our  opponents  to 
try  their  skill  in  restraining  their  children  within  bounds  they 
now  deem  evangelical.  We  owe  all  our  success  to  the  sagacity 
of  our  fathers,  and  their  skill  in  mining  and  sapping." 

The  splendid  lady,  whose  beautiful  placidity  seemed  beyond 
being  ruffled,  now  spoke :  "  And  you  approve  of  this  doctrine  of 
reserve  as  practised  by  your  fathers  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam,"  he  replied,  "  I  do,  upon  the  plea  of  necessity. 
It  was  vital  to  success." 

"  But  was  it  honest?  was  it  manly  ?  "  asked  the  lady. 

"  It  was  following  the  example  of  Paul,  —  catching  them  with 
guile,"  replied  the  host. 

"  0  !  this  doctrine  of  duplicity,  which  Doctors  of  Divinity  call 
the  Doctrine  of  Reserve,  —  how  I  hate  it ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Samson.  "  And  not  a  single  cry  of  conscience  was  heard,"  she 
added,  with  a  proud  look  of  contempt. 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  whole  truth,"  replied  the  host,  "  there  were 
some  little  misgivings  about  the  misappropriation  of  old  Hollis's 
endowment  for  founding  a  professorship  of  Divinity ;  who  re 
quired  the  professor  to  be  *  of  sound  Orthodox  principles.'  It  was 
a  bitter  pill  to  swallow  ;  but  we  found  it  could  be  washed  down 
at  our  corporation  dinners  before  we  had  drank  our  second  bottle. 
0,  those  were  famous  dinners ;  and  such  wines  as  we  drank !  " 

Here  Mr.  Spearum  broke  in  upon  the  talk  :  "  Those  were  days 
of  ignorance,  no  longer  to  be  winked  at,"  said  he,  winking  and 
grimacing  at  the  bottles  of  wine  opened,  and  in  process  of  evapora 
tion,  upon  the  table.  The  host  joined  in  the  laugh,  and  continued : 
10 


110  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  The  fact  was  this  :  we  had  to  hold  on  to  the  professorship, 
or,  as  the  lawyers  say,  '  confess  judgment.'  We  had  to  go  it, 
but  the  Divinity  School  has  never  prospered ;  and,  sometimes, 
our  professor,  with  all  his  pains-taking  and  improved  eccaleobian 
process,  has  hatched  out  but  a  chicken  or  two  in  a  year." 

"  And  I  think  we  may  say,"  said  Mr.  Spearum,  "  those  we 
have  hatched  out  soon  find  their  work  of  picking  up  crumbs 
which  fall  from  the  table  of  the  rich,  rather  tame  and  wearisome." 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  this  is  most  lamentably  true,"  said  the  Inter 
preter.  "  Some  have  taken  to  politics,  and  have  preferred  the 
embassies  of  earth  to  those  of  heaven  ;  some  to  making  books ; 
and  I  have  heard  of  one,  famous  in  his  day,  who  invented  a 
razor-strop."  *Pr  J>  **'*  *M  ^ 

Here,  the  initiated  burst  forth  into  laughter,  while  our  pil 
grims  sat  by,  with  a  wondering  look  at  the  point  made.  Mr. 
Spearum,  with  great  courtesy  and  good-humor,  seeing  this,  said 
to  them :  "  Our  host  has  just  launched  a  shaft  at  me ;  and,  to 
understand  it,  I  must  tell  you,  some  of  my  people  were  addicted 
to  evil  spirits,  and  lived,  to  use  the  phrase  of  medical  men,  by 
their  being  exhibited.  Now,  I  sought  to  exorcise  them  of  these 
vile  spirits,  and  failed.  Then,  as  the  next  best  thing  I  could  do  for 
them,  I  sought  to  improve  their  outward  man ;  for  the  truth  is, 
they  required  to  be  treated  with  some  barbarity,  so  very  restive 
were  they  under  my  manipulations ;  and  when,  madam,  I  pre 
sented  them  with  my  invaluable  razor-strop,  to  my  astonishment, 
they  utterly  rejected  it  at  my  hands." 

"  And  so  they  remained  unshorn,"  said  Annie,  with  a  gay, 
laughter-loving  look. 

"  Unshaven,  lady,"  replied  the  doctor  ;  "  but  really,  from  the 


AN  ANECDOTE   OF  A   GREAT  MAN.  Ill 

outcry  they  made  under  my  hands,  you  would  hardly  say, 
unshorn.  Indeed,  the  remark  of  a  professional  gentleman,  made 
under  somewhat  similar  circumstances,  often  came  to  my  mind, 
— '  a  great  cry  for  a  little  wool.'  " 

Upon  this,  the  frolic  of  the  company  was  made  manifest  in 
various  ways ;  and  our  pilgrims  laughed,  although  ignorant  of 
the  pungency  of  the  doctor's  wit. 

What  a  charming  incident  at  a  dinner-table,  when  the  dessert 
is  on  the  table,  is  the  first  hearty  laugh  !  All  little  conflicts 
are  forgotten ;  and  the  entire  company  at  once  rise  to  the  sum 
mit-level  of  the  last  story.  So  it  was  now.  The  host  was  warmed 
up  to  a  bright,  happy  look,  and,  in  a  cheerful  tone,  said : 

"  My  friends,  I  must  tell  you  an  anecdote  related  of  one  of 
our  deserters,  —  if  I  may  so  call  them,  —  who  once  rose  to  a 
cabinet  appointment.  You  are  all  aware  that  there  is  nothing 
they  wish  so  much  to  forever  sink  in  oblivion  as  their  relations 
to  the  pulpit. 

"  Soon  after  this  eminent  person  had  been  initiated  into  office, 
with  which  he  was  wonderfully  pleased  and  elated,  an  old  friend 
of  mine,  a  plain  Berkshire  farmer,  who  happened  to  be  at  the 
Federal  city,  thinking  it  would  gratify  the  new-made  secretary 
to  meet  an  old  acquaintance,  called  at  the  department  and  sent 
in  his  name  by  the  messenger.  He  said  he  waited  a  long  time  in 
the  ante-chamber,  till  at  last  the  messenger  came  and  told  him 
the  secretary  was  ready  to  receive  him.  He  found  the  great  man 
sitting  at  a  table  covered  with  papers  and  letters.  The  na'ive 
manner  in  which  he  told  the  story  I  fear  I  cannot  give  you. 
Indeed,  it  is  hard  to  hit " 

"  Do  let  us  have  it !  "  said  Frank. 


112  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  the  host ;  "  and  you  must  have  in 
your  minds  a  plain,  honest  farmer,  in  contrast  with  the  uppish, 
dandified,  newly-made  secretary,  in  his  navy-blue  broadcloth  coat 
and  extra  gilt  buttons.  My  Berkshire  farmer  said :  '  After  I 
seated  myself,  I  told  him  I  thought  I  would  call,  being  as  how  as 
I  was  in  the  city,  and  pay  my  respects,  and  congratulate  him  on 
his  appintment,  which  was  just  as  gratifying  to  his  friends  as  to 
himself.  The  secretary  bowed,  and  said  he  was  obliged  to  me  ; 
that  the  honor  was  equally  unsought  and  unexpected,  and  the 
duties  arduous,  tasking  his  poor  abilities  to  the  utmost ;  but  he 
hoped  to  satisfy  his  friends  and  the  country,  so  that  they  should 
not  regret  that  this  high  honor  had  been  conferred  upon  him. 
Here,'  said  the  farmer,  '  I  was  at  a  loss  what  next  to  say. 
Perhaps  you  don't  remember  me,  Mister  Secretary  ?  Your  father 
and  mine  were  in  the  ministry  together.'  —  'Yes,  sir,'  said  the 
secretary,  in  a  hard,  dry  tone.  —  '  And,  sir,'  continued  my  friend, 
*  I  remember,  just  as  well  as  if  it  was  only  yesterday,  the  first 

sarmon  you  preached  in  father's  pulpit ;  the  text  was '  and 

here  he  said  he  was  bothered  an  instant.  '  Ah,  yes  !  it  was  from 
the  twenty-eighth  chapter  of  Proverbs,  and  the  twenty-first  verse : 
"  To  have  respect  of  persons  is  not  wise ;  for,  for  a  piece  of 
bread,  that  man  will  transgress ;  "  and  I  recollect,  just  as  plain 
as  day,  how  much  my  father  was  pleased  with  it,  for  he  said, 
while  mother  was  pouring  out  the  baked  beans  into  the  dish,  it 
was  a  capital  sarmon,  and,  like  a  sword,  it  pierced  between  the 
jints  and  the  marrar.  Old  Deacon  Simon  Greenleaf  squirmed 
under  it,  considerable.  Father  did  n't  name  him ;  but  he  said 
there  was  a  good  deal  in  that  sarmon,  which,  if  he  had  preached 
it,  would  have  been  called  pinted ;  and  the  deacon  was  a  good 


THE   BERKSHIRE   FARMER'S   STORY.  113 

deal  riled,  only  he  did  n't  like  to  say  so,  or  he  would  have  made 
a  fuss  about  it.  Now,  you  know.  Mister  Secretary,  if  there  ever 
was  a  man  that  had  respect  to  persons,  it  was  the  old  deacon. 
"Why,  he  went  down  to  town  on  purpose  to  call  on  Kit  Gore, 
when  he  was  made  governor,  just  to  say  so  when  he  came  back  to 
hum ;  for  a  governor  was  somebody,  in  them  times.  Now  the 
deacon  was  one  of  your  old-times,  black-cockade,  Adams-and-Lib- 
erty  federalists,  and  hated  Tom  Jefferson  as  he  did  pisen  !  But 
no  matter  for  that.  What  I  was  going  to  say  was  this :  you 
divided  your  text  into  three  parts,  and  closed  with  a  practical 
application  of  the  whole  subject.  And  first,  What  it  is  to  have 

respect  unto  persons ;  secondly .'    The  poor  cabinet  minister 

found  his  patience  utterly  exhausted,  and  rose  from  his  chair  in  a 
passion.  *  Sir,'  said  he,  *  I  've  no  time  to  hear  my  old  sermons 
rehearsed  ;  and,  as  you  have  so  good  a  recollection  of  my  preach 
ing,  I  hope  you  have  profited  by  my  discourse.  Sir,  I  bid  you 
good-day,'  My  farmer  friend  rose  astonished.  He  found  him 
self  in  the  entry,  and,  to  the  day  he  told  me  the  story,  he  never 
fairly  comprehended  how  it  happened  that  their  interview  came  so 
suddenly  to  an  end." 

After  coffee,  the  party  broke  up ;  and  we  regret  to  report  no 
more  of  the  clever  sayings  of  Doctor  Spearum,  the  quiet  sar 
casm  of  Mrs.  Samson,  the  impassioned  sayings  of  the  "  earnest" 
lady,  and  the  joyous  humor  of  Mrs.  Doctor  Harry  Hunter.  But, 
as  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit,  we  must  leave  off7  here. 

Our  friends  thanked  the  host  and  his  amiable  lady  for  the 
pleasure  they  had  each  and  all  received,  and  retired. 
10* 


114  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

MR.  TOLLMAN'S  LUCID  EXPLANATIONS  OP  MOOTED  QUESTIONS. 

THE  next  morning,  as  Oliver  and  Annie  were  walking  before 
breakfast  on  the  veranda,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tollman  and  Rev.  Dr. 
Dodge  came  up  to  them,  and,  after  remarks  on  the  beauty  of  the 
scenery,  Mr.  Tollman  said  : 

"  I  am  fearful  you  may  have  misconceived  a  remark  made  by 
Dr.  Spearum  at  dinner,  yesterday." 

"  To  what  do  you  allude  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

"  His  saying  that  the  Guide-book  had  no  authority,  only  so  far 
as,  and  until  verified  by,  the  works  of  nature.  He  did  not  qualify 
it  at  the  time,  and  I  feared  it  might  mislead  you  in  its  appli 
cation." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Oliver,  "  his  remark  applied  only  to  such  sub 
jects  as  were  within  the  province  of  natural  science." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Mr.  Tollman,  with  an  air  of  high  satis 
faction.  "  We  are  very  liable  to  misconception ;  and  it  is 
highly  important  that  all  general  statements  should  be  carefully 
restricted." 

"But  is  there  not  great  danger  in  making  such  statements 
before  a  popular  audience?"  said  Oliver.  "How  many  of  those 
worthy  artisans,  and  their  sons  and  daughters,  may  have  gone  home 
Tinder  the  very  impression  you  so  justly  deprecate  !  " 

"  It  may  have  been  so,"  said  Mr.  Tollman. 

"  And  would  it  not  have  been  modest  and  wise  in  Doctor 
Spearum  to  have  withheld  that  remark  ?  What  do  we  know  of 


COLLOQUY  WITH  REV.  DRS.  TOLLMAN  AND  DODGE.    115 

Geology  and  Ethnology  ?  These  are  new  sciences,  and  change  with 
every  year.  And  how  readily  men  seize  some  novelty  of  theory 
which  upsets  the  very  basis  of  all  law  and  religion !  " 

"  It  is  certainly  to  be  regretted  it  is  so ;  but  science  must  not 
be  repressed  by  any  fear  of  consequences,"  said  Mr.  Tollman. 

"True  science,"  replied  Oliver,  "  has,  thus  far,  always  been 
on  the  side  of  revelation.  It  is  your  tyros  who  step  boldly 
in  where  angels  fear  to  tread.  Where  is  your  doctrine  of  re 
serve,  sir  ?  Would  it  not  be  well  to  use  it  in  all  seeming  conflicts 
of  science  and  revelation  ?  " 

"Perhaps  it  might  be,"  said  Mr.  Tollman,  in  a  hesitating 
way. 

"  Let  me  change  the  topic,"  said  Oliver.  "  Our  host  told 
us  last  night  that  the  devil  had  been  sublimed,  and  the  fires  of 
the  lower  world  extinguished.  Do  you  sympathize  with  Univer- 
salists  ?  " 

"Have  you  not  misapprehended  our  host?"  said  Mr.  Toll 
man. 

"  Perhaps  I  may  have  done  so  ;  and  if  I  have,  what  is  the  exact 
position  you  hold  here  on  these  subjects?  " 

"  Exactitude,  dear  sir  in  stating  our  opinions,  is  a  very  difficult 
task.  We  repudiate  all  creeds,  and  all  confessions,  so  that  it  is 
easier  for  me  to  tell  you  what,  as  Unitarians,  we  do  not  believe, 
than  what  we  do.  We  do  not  fraternize  with  Universalists ; 
though,  in  making  up  our  tables,  we  count  them  as  on  our  side. 
But  '  blank  and  bald  Universalism  '  #  is  based  upon  texts,  about 
which  the  men  who  wrangle  are  utterly  incapable  of  giving  an 

*  See  Dr.  Dewey's  Works,  vol.  m.,  p.  115,  for  this  phrase. 


116  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

exegesis  which  the  ripe  scholarship  of  our  brethren  would 
indorse." 

"  But  do  you  believe  in  a  hell  in  contrast  with  a  heaven  ?  That 
is  the  gist  of  my  inquiry,"  said  Oliver. 

Mr.  Tollman  was  evidently  reluctant  to  go  on  with  this  dis 
cussion,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dodge  spoke  for  him : 

"  We  do  not  say  much  about  such  subjects ;  and,  when  com 
pelled,  as  I  am  at  this  moment,"  smiling  as  he  spoke,  and  bowing 
to  Annie,  who  was  all  alive  to  the  colloquy,  "  we  hold  that  the 
language  of  the  Scriptures  must  be,  of  necessity,  figurative,  and 
hell-fire,  the  worm,  etc.,  mean  remorse.  And,  when  we  have 
thus  put  out  the  fire,  we  suggest  a  doubt  if  the  terms  used  for 
duration  are  not  likewise  figurative ;  and  there 's  a  good  deal  to 
be  said  on  this  score.  Then  we  adventure  strongly  on  the  attri 
butes  of  mercy  and  beneficence,  and  so  let  down  the  drapery  over 
an  idea,  which,  however  presented,  is  terrible  in  the  extreme." 

"  But  do  you  not  destroy  one  of  the  most  powerful  incentives 
to  repentance  by  so  doing  ?  "  said  Annie. 

"  Ah !  if  our  people  were  of  the  vulgar  class,  what  you  sug 
gest  would  be  of  great  weight ;  but  they  are  not.  With  us,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  see  virtue  portrayed  for  her  to  be  embraced. 
For  then,  sir,"  said  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dodge,  with  emphasis,  "  the 
fluidity  of  the  soul  tends  towards  the  Infinite,  and  then  begins 
the  harmony  of  the  Subjective  with  the  Objective,  —  the  adjust 
ment  of  the  Contingent  with  the  Absolute." 

"  When,  sir,"  asked  Annie,  in  great  perplexity  of  mind,  "  and 
under  what  condition,  does  all  this  take  place  ?  " 

"  It  is,  madam,"  replied  Dr.  Dodge,  with  a  sort  of  afflatus, 
"  when  the  soul  is  absorbed  into  the  divinity,  and  the  corres- 


ORACULAR   UTTERANCES.  117 

pondence  of  the  finite  and  concrete  is  established  with  the  infi 
nite  and  abstract.  'T  is  then  the  soul  becomes  the  seat  of  the 
Absolute,  and  recognizes  its  subjective  Divinity  beneath  the  guises 
of  the  normal  and  apparent.  'T  is  then  the  enthusiasm  for  the 
pure  and  the  lofty  is  awakened,  and  Man  becomes  the  Shekinah 
of  the  Infinite  One." 

Hereupon,  Dr.  Dodge  and  Mr.  Tollman,  with  gracious  bows, 
left  Oliver  and  Annie  in  a  state  of  amazement.  They  continued 
walking  up  and  down  the  veranda  in  silence.  Annie,  seeing 
Oliver  still  striving  to  unriddle  these  dark  sayings,  burst  into  one 
of  her  dear,  delightful  laughs,  and  addressed  her  husband  in  these 
words  :  "  My  dear  husband,  listen  to  me  and  to  my  words.  The 
question  is,  What  does  Dr.  Dodge  mean,  and  what  does  he  say  ? 
He  says,  in  the  language  of  the  philosopher  in  Hasselas,  '  To  live 
according  to  nature  is  to  act  always  with  a  due  regard  to  the  fit 
ness  arising  from  the  relations  and  qualities  of  causes  and  effects  ; 
to  concur  with  the  great  and  unchangeable  scheme  of  universal 
felicity ;  to  cooperate  with  the  general  disposition  and  tendency 
of  the  present  system  of  things.' " 

"  Dear  wife,  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  "  said  Oliver,  still  under 
the  influence  of  the  storm  of  words  he  had  listened  to. 

"  To  whom  do  you  refer,  —  to  Dr.  Dodge's  parables  or  mine  ?  " 
asked  Annie. 

"Yours,  Annie;  they  are  quite  as  dark  as  Dr.  Dodge's," 
replied  Oliver. 

"  Ah,  well !  I  was  reminded,"  said  his  gay  wife,  "  of  this  fa 
mous  wise  man  in  Rasselas ;  and  I  came  to  the  same  conclusion 
in  regard  to  Dr.  Dodge,  that  Kasselas  did  as  to  the  philoso- 


118  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

pher,  of  whom  he  said,  *  He  should  understand  less,  as  he  heard 
the  longer."'* 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Oliver,  waking  up  at  once  to  the  frolic  of  his 
wife ;  "  and  we,  too,  may  say  of  all  such  wisdom  as  is  said  of  the 
last  chapter  of  that  book  :  *  The  conclusion,  in  which  nothing  is 
concluded.' " 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

PRELIMINARY  MEETING    OF    THE   WOMAN'S  RIGHTS    CONVENTION   AT 
THE   TREMONT   HOUSE. 

THE  company  at  the  Tremont,  on  the  day  of  the  preliminary 
meeting,  had  reached  its  utmost  capacity.  This  important  event 
came  off  on  Thursday  morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  in  the  great  hall, 
which  had  been  duly  fitted  up  with  a  dais,  upon  which  the  chair 
was  placed,  and  before  it  a  table  for  the  secretary.  •  The  room 
would  hold  three  hundred  persons  with  all  comfort.  Our  pilgrims 
received  a  printed  card,  with  their  names  duly  inscribed  thereon, 
inviting  them  to  attend ;  and  this  was  done  to  exclude  certain 
young  folks,  whose  presence  was  not  desired  on  this  occasion. 

Gertrude  declared  she  should  not  go,  for  she  did  not  want  any 
rights  she  did  not  already  possess.  She  was  well  content  to  be 
the  wife  of  one  husband.  She  thought,  from  all  she  had  heard 
young  ladies  around  say,  and  from  what  they  did,  that  there  was 
nothing  lay  so  near  their  hearts  as  widening  the  sphere  of  woman's 
rights  in  one  direction ;  and  this  seemed  to  be,  the  right  to  appro- 

*  Kasselas,  chap,  xxiv 


THE   SPEECH   OF  MRS.    SAMSON.  119 

priate  the  time  and  attentions  of  the  husbands  present  for  their 
own  pleasure ;  and,  for  her  part,  she  thought  Mr.  Frank  Trueman 
was  just  as  ready  to  be  led  away  as  they  were  to  beguile  him. 

"  My  sweet  wife  !  "  exclaimed  Frank,  "  how  have  I  offended  ?  " 

"  Did  you  not  go  out  botanizing  with  that  pretty  girl  from  Mil 
ton  Hill,  —  not  once,  but  a  dozen  times  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  have  done  so  !  "  said  Frank.  "  That  young  lady 
is  a  botanist,  indeed,  and  I  have  been  greatly  instructed  by  her 
science,  and  her  willingness  to  be  my  instructor." 

"  Are  you  so  stupid  as  to  suppose  Ada  Fay  cared  for  the  flow 
ers  ?  No,  indeed !  it  was  only  a  little  innocent  flirtation  she 
wanted  to  get  up ;  and  you  could  n't  find  it  in  your  heart  to  refuse 
to  follow  this  nymph  of  the  woods  into  all  the  dells  and  thickets 
into  which  she  led  you,  only  for  the  frolic.  Was  n't  it  so,  Frank?  " 

"  Dear  wife,  it  may  be  true,"  replied  Frank,  with  a  face  so 
troubled  that  the  sympathy  of  Gertrude  was  won  at  once ;  and, 
putting  her  arm  in  his,  she  affectionately  asked  him  to  walk  with 
her.  "  Do  you  go  to  the  meeting  ?  "  asked  Frank  of  Oliver  and 
Annie,  as  Gertrude  and  he  turned  to  leave  them. 

"  0  yes !  "  said  Oliver,  "  I  must  go.  We  will  tell  you  of  all 
we  hear,  when  we  meet  after  dinner.  I  've  no  doubt  we  shall  be 
greatly  interested." 

When  Oliver  and  his  wife  entered,  Mrs.  Samson  had  taken  the 
chair,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Tollman  was  acting  as  clerk.  The  room 
was  well  filled,  with  about  three  ladies  to  one  gentleman.  Mrs. 
Samson  rose  and  stated,  that  "  this  was  to  be  an  informal  meeting, 
with  a  view  to  free  discussion,  preliminary  to  their  anniversary. 
She  hoped  that  any  persons  present  who  felt  impressed  would  speak 
their  mind .  They  invited  a  free  expression  of  opinion,  and  hoped  all 


120  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

would  speak  as  briefly  as  they  well  could,  for  slie  hoped  to  hear 
from  strangers," —  glancing  to  where  Oliver  and  the  senator  sat, — 
"  as  well  as  from  those  who  have  long  been  accustomed  to  act 
with  us." 

We  shall  briefly  repeat  some  of  the  points  made,  or,  rather, 
some  of  the  hard  sayings  uttered,  on  this  occasion.  There  was  no 
lack  of  zeal,  fluency,  nor  of  readiness  to  occupy  the  floor.  A 
gentleman  from  Bostonia  suggested  the  expediency  of  an  order  to 
be  created,  to  be  called  "  The  Sisters  of  Honor,"  which  should  be 
the  refuge  of  those  ladies  who  had  married  unhappily,  and  wished 
to  separate  from  their  husbands  without  the  publicity  of  a  di 
vorce.^  This  plan  was  very  charmingly  advocated ;  but  the  naked 
fact,  that  one  tenth  of  all  the  married  women  in  the  world  would  be 

applicants  for  admission,  rendered  it  utterly  hopeless Mrs. 

Harry  Hunter  made  some  admirable  remarks  on  the  importance 
of  good  health,  vigor,  power,  nerve,  to  women  who  hope  to  contend 
successfully  for  their  rights.  She  said  they  would  find  out,  some 
time,  the  value  of  the  truth  contained  in  the  proverb,  "  An  ounce 
of  prevention  is  worth  a  pound  of  cure."  But,  as  there  must  be 
doctors,  and  women  would  not  do  without  them,  she  could  only 
say  there  was  no  one  so  well  fitted  for  this  profession  as  woman. 
....  A  gentleman  of  eminent  refinement  rose,  and  uttered  his 
sentiment :  "  That,  from  the  ancient  statues,  it  was  apparent  that 
a  finely-formed  woman  was  much  nearer  these  models  than  the 
men  of  the  present  day."1^  The  senator  whispered  to  Frank : 
"  How  comes  it  he  knows  all  this  ?  He  's  a  minister."  .... 
Mrs.  Rose  said,  "  that  women  of  our  day  were  obliged  to  undergo 
a  bleaching  process,  and  to  use  lemon  and  vinegar  to  make  them 

*  By  Kev.  Mr.  Charming. 


SPEECHES   IN   THE    CONVENTION.  121 

pale  and  interesting;  and  then  she  was  so  cramped  by  mock 
modesty  that  she  dare  not  speak  of  the  leg  of  a  table."  .... 
A  lady  rose  and  remarked  :  "It  was,  doubtless,  within  the  recol 
lection  of  some  present,  that  when  Greenough's  Chanting  Cher 
ubs  were  on  exhibition  in  Bostonia,  the  cherubs  were  obliged  to 
be  clothed  in  clouts  before  the  ladies  of  Bostonia  could  be  brought 
to  look  upon  them."  ....  Mrs.  Stanton  said  :  "  We  can  neither 
have  high-minded,  noble,  virtuous,  nor  brave  women,  so  long  as 
ignorant  mothers  and  Parisian  fools  compel  the  vital  organs  to 
perform  their  revolutions  in  one  half  the  space  required  by  nature. 
A  woman  with  lapped  ribs  and  a  diseased  liver  may  make  a 
religious  enthusiast,  a  gloomy  misanthrope,  or  a  sentimental 
voluptuary,  but  not  a  reformer  of  stern  virtue."  ....  Mrs.  Abby 
H.  Pierce  read  a  report  she  had  drawn  up.  She  said  :  "  Woman 
is  cramped,  dwarfed,  cowed  down,  for  want  of  pecuniary  inde 
pendence,  and  she  is  now  compelled  by  poverty  and  dependence 
to  take  off  her  crown  of  womanhood  and  lay  it  at  man's  feet. 
Woman  had  no  rights,  would  have  none,  till  she  had  attained 
the  right  of  voting.  The  ballot-box  was  the  casket  to  be  won. 
Until  then,  men  may  give,  may  grant,  may  endow  woman,  but 
woman  was  without  rights  till  she  could  command  them."  Objec 
tion  being  made  as  to  woman's  entering  into  the  broils  of  an  elec 
tion,  it  was  answered  :  "  The  remedy  is  easy.  Divide  the  election 
districts,  or  have  separate  windows  for  receiving  the  ballots  of 
women,  as  at  post-offices,  till  men  become  humanized." —  Oliver 
rose  and  asked,  "Would  you  have  them  hold  offices?" — To 
which  Miss  Pierce  promptly  replied :  "  Most  certainly.  We 
would  have  women  to  be  what  God  intended  them  to  be,  —  com 
panions  in  counsel  and  in  government.  Let  them  sit  together  in 
11 


122  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

our  national  councils,  and  the  violence,  rowdyism,  and  vulgarity 
which  now  reign,  will  be  banished.  The  existence  of  these  char 
acteristics  shows  us  clearly  '  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone.' " 
This  was  a  little  too  much  for  the  honorable  senator,  who,  rising 
with  a  glowing  smile,  full  of  wit  and  humor,  and  bowing  very 
profoundly  to  the  assembly  and  to  Mrs.  Samson,  commenced : 

"  MRS.  CHAIRMAN  AND  LADIES  :  I  beg  to  be  permitted  to  say 
a  few  words  on  the  subject  now  alluded  to.  I  have  had  some 
experience  of  congressional  life,  and  I  have  known  a  little  of  the 
intrigues  of  men  in  high  stations.  As  it  is,  they  are  bad  enough, 
and  I  fear  that  this  enlarging  the  sphere  "of  woman's  activity 
would  add  nothing  to  her  happiness  or  respectability;  nor  do  I 
believe  her  presence  as  legislator  would  lessen  the  intrigues  in 
and  around  the  capitol.  For  myself,  I  believe  God  has  made  a 
most  marked  difference  in  the  sexes,  and  for  us  to  attempt  any 
subversion  of  God's  plan  is  being  wiser  than  he  who  made  us, 
and  who  has  established  the  condition  of  our  being,  so  that  each 
sex  has  its  separate  and  appropriate  excellence.  And  I  believe, 
too,  whatever  a  wife  may  be,  she  must  never  forget  she  is  a 
woman ;  and  if  things  go  on  well  with  a  husband  and  wife,  it  is 
because  they  have  their  separate  spheres,  which,  while  they  inter 
lock,  never  come  into  conflict.  Now,  Mrs.  Chairman"  (the  honor 
able  senator  was  very  precise  in  the  accentuation  of  this  title, 
throwing  the  stress  slightly  upon  the  last  syllable),  "  I  must  say, 
that  I  fear  this  mingling  up  of  men,  —  base  men,  corrupt  poli 
ticians,  lobby  members,  and  the  like,  —  and  those  *  fairer  forms,' 
so  styled  by  men  of  gallantry,  and  by  some  '  sober-minded  men,' 
'the  weaker  sex'  (Paul,  I  believe,  prefers  the  epithet  'vessel'), 


SPEECH    OF    THE   SENATOR.  123 

will  be,  must  be,  cannot  fail  to  be,  attended  with  many  embar 
rassments  and  conflicts,  alike  disastrous  and  distressful.  One 
word  more.  Mrs.  Chairman  and  Ladies  :  When  I  married  that 
lady,"  pointing  to  his  beautiful  wife,  sitting  with  Annie,  not  far 
off,  and  whose  face  was  in  a  glow  at  this  unexpected  reference  to 
herself,  "  this  doctrine  of  spheres  was  a  matter  we  talked  over,  and 
we  came  to  this  conclusion  :  that  I  should  keep  all  right  on  the 
outside  of  the  house,  and  she  should  do  the  same  —  for  the  inside. 
Well,  my  friends,  we  have  lived  together  seventeen  years,  and 
never  jostled  each  other  in  the  least.  We  have  been  a  pair  of 
stars,  such  as  astronomers  tell  us  about,  which  shine  with  a  com 
plementary  light,  and  revolve  around  each  other,  and  which  have 
done  so  from  the  day-dawn  of  creation,  describing  orbits  in  entire 
harmony,  mutually  dependent  on  each  other,  and  without  any  fear 
of  collision.  To  be  sure,  Mrs.  Chairman  and  ladies,  I  have 
found  my  wife,  with  all  her  excellences,  —  and  no  one  knows 
these  so  well  as  myself,  —  a  real  daughter  of  mother  Eve,  and 
none  of  you  can  know  all  the  temptations  I  have  had  to  resist. 
I  hope  none  of  you  will  believe  me  capable  of  biting  at  a  naked 
apple,  after  what  has  happened  ;  but  it  is  the  apple  still  which  has 
been  presented  to  me.  Sometimes  it  comes  in  the  shape  of  apple 
dumplings,  and  sometimes  cut  up  fine,  and  deliciously  made  up 
into  mince  pies ;  and  here  I  am  as  I  am  (giving  a  heavy  blow  on 
his  capacious  waist),  standing  before  you,  a  pillar,  like  Lot's  wife ; 
not  exactly  a  pillar  of  salt,  nor  yet  a  pillar  of  state,  but  a  living 
monument  of  what  a  man  may  become  by  a  wife  ruling  in  her 
appropriate  sphere  ;  and  in  so  doing,  you  all  see  how  greatly  she 
has  enlarged  mine,"  laying  his  hands  upon  his  ample  sides  as  he 
spoke.  There  were  a  great  many  ladies  on  the  verge  of  laughter ; 


124  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

but  as  for  Mrs.  Samson,  placid  as  she  usually  was,  her  spirit  wag 
troubled ;  and  as  for  the  other  speakers,  they  were  looking  daggers 
drawn  at  the  honorable  senator.  "  But,  Mrs.  Chairman  and 
ladies  (continued  this  gentleman),  I  didn't  mean  to  make  a  speech, 
but  rose  simply  to  tell  you  an  illustrative  anecdote,  true  to  the 
letter,  for  I  was  present  at  the  time.  When  Capt.  Symmes  went 
all  over  the  land,  lecturing  of  spheres  inside  the  globe,  —  as  novel 
an  idea,  and  as  original  with  him,  as  the  electro-magnetic  tele 
graph  to  our  countryman  Professor  Morse,  which  none  but  pirates 
have  ever  questioned,  —  he  came  to  the  town  in  which  I  was 
then  a  freshman;  and  we  all,  faculty,  students,  and  towns 
people,  went  to  hear  him.  For  myself,  I  confess  I  was  greatly 
interested  in  what  he  said ;  nor  can  I  divine  where  the  reindeers 
go,  migrating  to  the  north  as  winter  comes  on,  unless  his  theory 
is  true.  But  no  matter  for  the  theory  now ;  my  story  has  a 
moral  worthy  of  all  consideration.  I  am  aware  I  am  now  speaking 
of  the  dears  of  our  own  land,  the  reigning  dears,  and  not  the  rein 
deers  ;  dears  as  hard  to  rein  as  the  fleetest  in  the  herds  which 
scamper  over  the  ice-fields  of  polar  regions.  But  to  the  point. 
After  the  lecture  was  over,  the  audience,  at  the  invitation  of  the 
captain,  retained  their  seats,  in  order  that  questions  might  be 
asked  and  objections  stated,  to  all  which  he  replied  as  best  he 
could ;  when  Joyce,  our  village  tailor,  rose  and  said :  « Cap'n 
Symmes,  I  understand  your  theory  perfectly ,  but  there  is  one 
little  difficulty  which  occurs  to  my  mind,  and  it  is  this  :  I  don't 
see  but  as  how  the  atmospheres  will  get  mixed  up  with  the  hemis 
pheres,  and  then  how  is  the  heat  to  be  regulated  ?  That 's  the 

question,  Cap'n  Symmes,'  said  the  tailor ; and  that 's  my 

question,  ladies !  "  and,  so  saying,  he  took  his   seat.     The  young 


OLIVER'S  SPEECH.  125 

ladies  laughed  to  their  hearts'  content,  heedless  of  the  frowns  of 
Mrs.  Samson,  and  the  cries  of  "  Order !  "  «  order !  "  on  all  sides. 
Oliver  now  rose,  to  the  dismay  of  his  wife,  and  addressed  the 
chair.  He  began  as  follows :  "I  rise,  ladies,  to  express  my 
sympathy  with  every  effort  to  promote  the  happiness  of  woman. 
I  have  long  felt  that  woman  has  not  attained  the  sphere  of  highest 
usefulness,  in  which  she  is  destined  to  move,  an  orb  of  light  and 
joy."  Here  the  young  ladies  looked  very  sweetly  upon  Oliver, 
and  his  poor  wife  took  her  first  inspiration ;  she  was  so  frightened 
at  his  temerity,  and  so  sure  he  would  break  downv  Even  the 
mature  ladies  smiled  benignantly.  Oliver  went  on :  "  We  now 
see  women  at  the  antipodes  of  civilization,  the  burden-bearers  of 
the  poor,  or  the  playthings  of  the  rich ;  wretched  from  poverty, 
or  alike  miserable  from  wealth ;  if  poor,  too  degraded  to  be 
elevated  by  intellectual  culture,  and  if  rich,  living  without  object 
beyond  the  perpetuation  of  their  beauty.  This  is  the  lot  of  too 
many, —  happily,  not  of  all !  There  are  wives  and  daughters  who 
are  neither  drones  nor  drudges ;  who  grow  up  into  life  with  high 
hopes,  and  earnest  purposes  of  usefulness ;  who  are  educated  to  a 
high  appreciation  of  the  duties  as  well  as  the  enjoyments  of  life  ; 
and  who  expect  to  find  life  a  checkered  scene  of  light  and  shade, 
and  who  meet  the  discipline  of  life  with  a  cheerful  confidence  and 
a  hopeful  trust  in  Grod.  The  world  has  ever  been  blessed  in  such 
women ;  and  the  number  is  increasing  of  those  whose  sway  is 
acknowledged  and  felt,  whether  amid  the  busy  city,  or  in  the 
seclusion  of  a  cottage. 

'  And  so  it  was  of  old, 


That  woman's  hand,  amid  the  elements 
Of  patient  industry  and  household  good, 


126  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Reproachless  wrought,  twining  the  slender  thread 
From  the  light  distaff  ;  or  in  skilful  loom 
Weaving  rich  tissues,  or  with  glowing  tints 
Of  rich  embroidery   pleased  to  decorate 
The  mantle  of  her  lord.     And  it  was  well ; 
For,  in  such  sheltered  and  congenial  sphere, 
Content  with  Duty  dwells.' 

"  Ladies,  such  was  woman  in  patriarchal  times,  and  the  true 
sphere  of  woman's  power  is  in  the  circle  which  gathers  around 
her  in  the  quiet  and  retirement  of  home  " 

At  this  instant,  Frank  Haven,  followed  by  four  other  young 
men,  entered  the  room,  and,  bowing  formally  and  low,  approached 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  then  bowing  to  Mrs.  Samson,  asked 
leave  of  the  meeting  to  deliver  a  message  from  the  lower  house. 
Oliver  sat  down,  and  Frank  Haven,  a  young  man  of  great  prom 
ise  and  position  in  Bostonia,  holding  a  paper  in  his  hand,  which  he 
opened  with  great  deliberation  and  with  an  air  of  solemnity,  spoke 
as  follows  :  "  Ladies,  certain  guests  of  the  Tremont  House  have 
held  a  meeting  in  the  grove,  and  formed  themselves  into  an  asso 
ciation  for  the  advancement  of  the  rights  of  woman.  We  have 
adopted  a  constitution,  and  have  appointed  our  officers  for  the 
year  ensuing  ;  and  a  committee  of  five,  who  stand  before  you,  are 
authorized  and  instructed  to  present  to  this  assembly  a  preamble 
and  resolution,  which  have  been  adopted  without  a  dissenting 
voice.  With  your  permission,  madam  (turning  to  the  chair),  I 
will  now  read  them  :  *  Whereas,  the  young  men's  Woman's 
llights  Association,  held  in  the  grove  of  the  Tremont  House, 
deeply  sympathize  with  the  wishes  and  aims  of  the  young  women 
of  the  Woman's  Rights  Convention,  now  in  session  in  the  Tre- 


CLOSING  SPEECH  OF  MRS.   RAMSHORN.  127 

mont  House ;  therefore,  resolved,  that  any  advances  they  may 
make  shall  be  met  by  us  with  all  courtesy,  and  be  gratefully 
acknowledged."  Hereupon  this  committee  withdrew  to  report  to 
the  association  in  the  grove,  amid  the  tittering  of  the  young 
ladies  present,  and  the  severe  annoyance  of  the  chair.  Oliver 
rose  to  finish,  when  Mrs.  Rachel  Ramshorn  rose  at  the  same  in- 
tant,  and  Oliver,  supposing  the  lady  had  risen  to  make  some 
parliamentary  interrogatory,  stood  to  listen.  Mrs,  Ramshorn, 
with  a  look  of  indignation  at  Oliver,  began  :  "  Mrs.  Chairman, 
I  have  no  patience  left  to  hear  more  of  the  preachment  of  the 
person  who  stands  before  you.  I  am  really  astonished  at  him ; 
and  I  ask,  who  is  this  remarkably  green  man,  to  come  to  a 
Woman's  Rights  Convention,  and  quote  the  Bible  and  Paradise 
Lost  ?  —  two  books  above  all  others  most  hateful  to  every  woman 
who  knows  she  has  rights,  and  has  a  heart  to  claim  them.  Does 
that  gentleman  not  know  so  much  as  this,  that  his  Bible  begins 
with  a  curse  upon  woman,  and  that  we  are  under  its  ban,  and 
must  be  to  the  end  of  time,  or  so  long  as  it  is  regarded  as  the 
rule  of  life  ?  —  a  most  miserable  myth  about  an  apple  !  And 
then,  he  gilds  this  all  over  with  poetry.  Mrs.  Chairman,  the  days 
when  we  can  be  gulled  by  rhymes  are  past  and  gone.  We  are 
not  any  longer  doll-babies  to  be  taken  up  and  put  down  at  pleas 
ure  ;  nor  are  we  any  longer  content  with  having  been  (a  hateful 
necessity  it  is !)  the  wet-nurses  of  men  in  infancy,  to  be  their  dry 
nurses  in  old  age.  We  enter  for  our  full  share  of  life,  its  honors 
and  its  emoluments.  Home  !  home !  let  drivellers  talk  of  home, 
sweet  home !  There  is  no  such  home  where  woman  is  the  slave 
of  a  master.  Mrs.  Chairman,  we  have  had  enough  of  this.  I 
move  we  now  adjourn,  sine  die."  At  this  instant  a  tall,  Meg 


128  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Merrilies-looking  negro  woman,  with  an  enormous  turban,  rose 
and  addressed  the  chair.  Mrs.  Samson  begged  the  company  to 
be  seated  while  Mrs.  Sojourner  Truth  should  address  them. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  Mrs.  Samson,  all  I  have  got  to  say  to  you  is 
this :  if  women  want  more  rights,  why  don't  they  take  'em,  and 
not  make  a  long  link-urn  story  about  it  ?  " 

This  speech,  so  pithy,  and  so  to  the  point,  was  followed  by  a 
storm  of  applause,  and  the  meeting  broke  up. 

When  Oliver  and  Annie  reached  the  veranda,  they  met  the 
honorable  senator,  and  his  lady,  who  was  taking  him  to  task  for 
talking  so  of  her  "  in  meeting  !  "  The  lady  was  really  vexed, 
only  it  was  of  no  use ;  her  husband  could  do  nothing  but  laugh, 
and  she  gave  it  up  as  hopeless  to  make  him  feel  sorry,  so  that 
she  might  have  the  satisfaction  of  giving  him  her  pardon,  on  his 
proper  penitence. 

Annie,  to  save  the  senator  and  his  wife  both,  for  that  lady  did 
not  know  how  to  give  up  the  pursuit  of  what  she  had  no  hope  of 
attaining,  said,  "  Was  it  not  shameful  in  Mrs,  Ramshorn  to  speak 
go  of  my  husband,  and  his  maiden  speech  ?  "  So  said  Annie,  with 
emphasis,  as  if  everybody  must  know  that  as  well  as  herself. 

"  Your  maiden  speech !  "  said  the  senator,  turning  to  Oliver. 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I  ever  rose  to  address  a  deliberative 
assembly,"  said  Oliver. 

*  "  You  are  very  complimentary  to  the  ladies,"  said  the  senator, 
"  and  when  you  find  an  opportunity  to  finish  your  speech,  of 
which  the  commencement  was  very  promising,  I  hope  you  will 
have  an  audience  of  lovely  girls  and  loving  wives,  and  not  women 
alike  weary  of  all  the  relations  they  hold  in  society." 


"EARNEST"  MEN.  129 

CHAPTER  XXIY. 

PROGRESS    OF    OPINION   AT   THE    TREMONT. 

THE  more  they  knew  of  the  Tremont  House,  the  less  they  felt 
like  adopting  its  principles  of  thought  and  action.  Indeed,  to 
discover  what  these  were  was  not  an  easy  task.  The  guests 
really  had  very  vague  ideas  of  the  Celestial  City,  and  of  what 
a  pilgrimage  was  designed  to  be.  And  yet  nothing  pleased  them 
so  much  as  being  earnest.  0,  it  was  a  word  upon  everybody's  lip. 
Mr.  Tollman,  speaking  of  Doctor  Dodge,  a  man  of  very  precise 
manners,  said  he  was  "  an  earnest  minister ;"  and  Doctor  Dodge, 
speaking  of  the  lion-hearted  Paul,  as  the  apex  of  all  commenda 
tion,  called  him  "  an  earnest  man." 

"  Can  any  one  of  you  tell  me,"  said  Gertrude,  addressing  her 
friends,  "  what  meaning  is  attached,  in  this  house,  to  the  word 
earnest  ?  Everybody  is  earnest,  and  I  have  no  idea  of  all  that 
is  conveyed  by  the  word  earnest.  It  does  not  mean  piety,  for 
Mr.  Waldo,  whose  sentiments  seem  to  me  verging  on  utter 
scepticism,  is  called,  with  complacency  and  commendation,  an 
earnest  man.  Now,  I  have  stated  my  embarrassment,  who  can 
help  me  ?  " 

Frank  replied :  "So  far  as  I  can  make  out, from  all  I  see  and 
hear,  with  the  religionists  of  this  house,  names  are  things  ;  they 
care  nothing  for  the  real,  so  they  secure  the  apparent.'" 

Gertrude  clapped  her  hands  in  her  surprise,  and  said:  "  Pray, 
let  us  get  out  of  this  place  before  we  learn  to  speak  the  shib 
boleth  of  these  people  ;  it  is  a  jargon  I  hate." 


130  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

And  it  was  then  agreed  on  that,  so  soon  as  their  month  at  the 
Tremont  House  was  ended,  they  would  go  over  to  the  Oxford 
Tavern,  a  place  Frank  had  himself  visited,  and  where  he  had 
met  some  acquaintances  who  were  very  strenuous  that  he  should, 
without  delay,  come  to  that  house,  where  the  only  genuine  Rolls 
could  be  had ;  all  others  being  utterly  worthless. 

When  their  purpose  came  to  be  known,  they  were  spoken  to 
by-  the  guests,  who  urged  them  to  remain,  or  to  return  with  them 
to  Bostonia ;  "  for,"  said  a  lady,  "  there  are  so  many  varieties  of 
opinion  as  to  this  matter,  and,  as  all  creeds  can't  be  true,  I 
believe  nothing." 

"  And  do  you  hope  to  escape  all  responsibility  by  such  a 
course  as  this  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

Doctor  Dodge,  who  was  present,  said,  "  Even  this  would  be 
less  objectionable  than  to  be  a  follower  of  some  of  them ; "  and 
added,  with  emphasis,"  '  Infidelity  itself  may  shelter  a  man 
from  a  creed  which  would  be  worse  than  utter  unbelief.'  "  * 

"  I  cannot  think  so,"  said  Frank ;  "  for,  in  the  darkest  days 
of  the  church,  abysmal  as  the  darkness  may  have  been,  charities, 
hospitals,  and  homes  for  the  wretched  have  been  founded,  and 
maintained,  and  still  live,  —  such  monuments  of  mercy  as  no  age 
of  Paganism  and  Infidelity  can  point  to.  These  mean  something. 
They  say  something." 

Doctor  Dodge  replied  :  "  It  is  hard  to'  discuss  these  matters 
with  men  whose  stand-point  is  at  antipodes  to  one's  own.  Sir,  I 
believe  in  progress ;  and  Christianity  is  one  of  the  steps  of  pro 
gress.  But  I  go  one  step  higher, — it  may  be,  in  your  judgment, 

i 

*  Dr.  Dewey's  Lecture,  delivered  in  Boston,  November,  1851. 


AN  UTTERANCE  OF  THE  ORACLE.        131 

a  very  bold  step,  —  when  I  say  this  :  '  I  believe  that  all  beings 
are  advancing  and  improving ;  and  that,  rank  on  rank,  they 
are  destined  to  rise  and  progress  in  knowledge  and  purity, 
through  endless  ages.'  "  ^ 

"  All  beings,"  said  Frank,  "  meaning,  of  course,  all  men,  — 
murderers,  pirates,  misers,  extortioners,  sensualists,  and  such  like." 

Whereupon,  the  Lion  of  the  Day  spoke  up,  for  he  was  at  first 
seemingly  a  heedless  listener,  as  if  it  was  beneath  his  notice  to 
take  part  in  such  a  discussion  as  this.  He  came  forward,  and 
the  circle  were  alive  for  one  of  his  oracular  utterances,  his  voca 
tion  being  that  of  Hierophant  of  Pantheism.  "  Yes,  sir,  '  Man, 
though  in  brothels,  or  in  jails,  or  on  gibbets,  is  on  his  way  to 
all  that  is  good  and  true.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE   YOUNG    WOMEN'S   RIGHTS    CONVENTION. 

THE  group  on  the  veranda  dispersed,  as  it  was  proper  it 
should ;  the  oracle  had  made  his  utterance,  and  those  who  were 
so  fortunate  as  to  have  heard  it  were  eager  to  be  the  first  tq 
repeat  it  to  their  absent  friends.  Our  gentlemen  took  leave  of 
their  wives,  saying,  "  We  will  go  and  engage  our  rooms  at  the 
Oxford  Tavern ; "  and  Gertrude  and  Annie  strolled  into  the 
house,  and  along  the  grand  entry  to  the  ladies'  private  saloon,  — 
a  sort  of  retiring  room,  where  ladies  left  their  shawls  and  bon- 

*  Idem. 


132  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

nets  after  a  walk.  And,  on  opening  the  door,  they  found  a 
conclave  of  young  girls  all  listening  to  a  lovely  girl  of  twenty, 
who  was  standing  up,  in  the  act  of  speaking.  She  stopped,  and 
our  ladies  were  about  to  withdraw,  when  Julia  Parsons,  the 
young  speaker,  cried  out,  eagerly  :  "  Don't  retire,  Mrs.  Outright, 
—  stay,  Mrs.  Trueman ;  I  have  nothing  confidential  to  commu 
nicate.  I  am  only  telling  these  girls  what  I  think  of  woman's 
rights  ;  so,  do  come  in,  if  you  please." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Annie ;  "  certainly,  and  with  pleasure." 

"  I  have  been  talking  to  these  girls,  who  have  met  here  at  this 
time,  by  the  suggestion  of  Miss  Helen  Hopefull,  to  discuss  the 
Rights  and  Wrongs  of  Young  Women.  So  this  is  what  we  call 
*  The  Young  Women's  Rights  Convention ; '  and  we  think  we 
have  wrongs  to  be  redressed." 

"  Pray,  do  go  on,"  said  Gertrude. 

"  I  was  saying,  as  you  entered,"  said  Julia,  a  girl  in  all  the 
glow  of  beauty,  and  a  proud  air  of  conscious  power,  the  natural 
result  of  her  birth  and  finished  education,  "  that  our  '  Mothers 
in  Israel,'  these  Deborahs,  who  have  sat  beneath  their  palm-trees, 
possessed  of  all  the  endowments  of  wealth  and  gratified  affection, 
have  jio  sympathy  with  us  girls,  in  the  real  wants  of  woman. 
They  are  striving  for  honors  they  must  fail  to  maintain,  even  if 
men  were  to  become  such  fools  as  to  grant  them.  Wfyat  intense 
vulgarity  it  was  in  Mrs.  Nichols,  to  contrast  the  strength  of  man 
with  that  of  the  Almighty ;  and  what  miserable  folly  in  Mr. 
Channing,  to  compliment  our  beauty  at  the  expense  of  our 
brothers.  How  ridiculous  it  was  for  Mrs.  Ramshorn  to  talk  of  a 
war  of  aggression,  for  women's  right  to  share  in  the  pursuits  of 
men ! 


SPEECH   OF  MISS  JULIA  PARSONS.  133 

"  Let  those  who  desire  the  duties  of  shipmasters  enter  the 
forecastle  as  green  hands,  and  see  how  well  they  can  reef  a  top 
sail  in  a  gale  of  wind.  All  this  is  simply  ridiculous  !  But  there 
are  grievances,  great  grievances,  which  are  not  so  much  as  spoken 
of,  which  come  home  to  our  business  and  our  bosoms,  my  young 
friends.  Let  me  speak  out,  in  this  audience  of  well-endowed, 
sensible  young  girls,  all  I  have  to  say,  without  stint,  relying  on 
your  sympathy  and  candor.  I  now  refer  to  the  restraints  placed 
by  the  iron  despotism  of  opinion  upon  us  maidens,  in  avowing 
our  love,  as  a  young  man  may  do,  and  which  young  widows 
never  fail  to  do ;  how,  I  can't  divine,  but  which  I  well  know  from 
personal  —  observation."  The  young  lady  had  hesitated  for 
a  word,  and  closed  her  sentence  as  we  have  written  it. 

"  All  I  ask  is,  liberty  to  act  out  the  true  and  earnest  prompt 
ings  of  my  soul.  Why  may  I  not  ?  Do  I  love  ?  Why  should 
I  conceal  it  ?  Is  it  unmaidenly  to  love  ?  What  folly  it  is  to 
say  so !  For  what  end  and  aim  were  we  created,  but  to  love  and 
be  loved  ?  But,  alas !  by  the  conventionalities  of  society,  a 
poor  girl  must  hide  the  flame  which  hallows  and  glows  in  the 
deep  recesses  of  her  soul.  She  must  do  so,  or  lose  caste  and 
be  jeered  at.  And  yet,  there  is  nothing  unwomanly,  nothing 
unworthy  the  purity  which  heaven  loves,  and  which  we  long  for. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  story.  It  will  illustrate  all  I  have  said, 
and  is  a  case  in  point,  and  I  well  remember  what  Shakspeare 
has  said : 

*  An  honest  tale  speeds  best,  being  plainly  told.' 

"  I  have  a  relative  about  my  own  age,  who  has  been  most 
carefully  educated,  and  who  has  a  warm  heart  and  generous 
nature.  Every  one  says  so  ;  and  what  everybody  says  must  be 


134  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

true.  Born  to  wealth,  surrounded  with  its  luxuries,  she  knew 
nothing  of  its  influences,  —  its  repressing  influences  on  those  not 
so  endowed.  There  came  to  her  father's  house  a  young  man  of 
twenty-one  ;  he  was  the  son  of  an  old  friend  and  classmate  and 
a  minister ;  a  poor  man,  rich  only  in  good  works,  and  in  a  large 
family  of  children.  This  was  his  eldest  son,  who  had  worked 
his  way  through  college  by  teaching,  and,  as  a  tutor,  had  saved 
a  little  to  enable  him  to  pay  his  expenses  while  he  studied 
his  profession.  My  father  gladly  welcomed  him  as  a  gratui 
tous  student  into  his  office,  and  at  once  introduced  him  to  his 
family,  and  said  to  him,  in  presence  of  us  all,  *  Here  you  are  to 
come  at  all  times ;  and  at  all  times  you  will  find  a  warm 
welcome.' 

"  I  won't  tell  you  his  name,  but  let  him  now  be  known  as 
Alfred  Smith.  He  was  possessed  of  a  fine  figure,  and  his  face 
was  always  beautiful ;  but  his  modesty,  shyness,  and  reserve,  or 
whatever  else  you  may  call  it,  resting  on  a  proud  heart,  which 
led  him  to  contrast  his  poverty  with  the  wealth  he  saw  around 
him,  seemed  unconquerable.  My  friend  was  then  but  sixteen  ; 
and  her  heart,  all  unconsciously  to  herself,  became  interested  in 
this  young  man.  And  years  passed  away,  —  I  say  years :  it  was 
three  years,  but  in  a  girl's  life  what  a  symbol  of  eternity! 
They  met  daily,  and  gradually  became  mutual  friends ;  she 
seeking  in  every  way  to  show  him  her  preference,  and  he 
striving  to  keep  his  heart  from  avowing  all  the  power  and  inten 
sity  of  his  love.  She  little  knew  of  this  conflict,  or  rather  of  its 
cause,  —  that  humility  which  poverty  compels,  a  feeling  she 
never  could  dream  of.  But  pride,  too,  told  him  he  must  not 
win  the  child  of  one  his  superior  in  fortune,  for  he  knew,  in  all 


JULIA  PARSONS'  TALE.  135 

things  else,  he  had  gifts  which  would  be  hereafter  acknowledged. 
And  so  it  was,  my  young  friend  came  to  be  to  him  a  '  bright 
particular  star,'  shining  in  a  sphere  he  could  never  reach,  or 
reach  too  late.  He  commenced  his  career  with  singular  success. 
He  rose  rapidly ;  but,  alas  !  while  he  was  full  of  intense  activ 
ity,  my  friend  was  living  in  all  the  idleness  of  secret  love,  —  a 
life  of  sadness  and  of  dejection,  —  too  proud  to  tell  her  griefe 
even  into  a  mother's  heart ;  and  why  ?  because  it  was  unmaid- 
enly.  But  I  am  wearying  you  all.  Let  me  hasten  to  the 
close.  My  young  friend  went  abroad  for  a  tour  of  six  months ; 
Alfred  accompanied  her  down  the  bay,  and  returned  in  the 
pilot-boat.  There  were  looks  reciprocated  at  parting  which 
sustained  her  heart  during  all  these  months  of  travel,  and  she 
returned  full  of  hopeful  anticipations ;  but  her  bright  castles  were 
destined  to  be  cast  down  to  utter  destruction,  — 

*  So  quick  bright  things  come  to  confusion.' 

"  Alfred  had  met,  at  a  friend's  house,  an  ensnaring  young 
widow,  who  dressed  sweetly,  walked  gracefully,  and,  by  enchant 
ments  only  known  to  such  women,  won  him  and  married  him." 
Here  her  voice  faltered,  and  a  tear  rose  to  her  eye.  She  was 
telling  her  own  heart's  history,  and  it  was  not  only  "  an  honest 
tale,"  but  a  tale  which  every  one  felt  must  be  true. 

"  Now,  I  ask,  is  there  one  here  who  questions  if  this  cousin, 
this  friend  of  mine,  had  lived  under  a  healthful  public  sentiment 
of  the  rights  of  maidens,  as  well  as  of  matrons,  would  she  have 
made  such  a  shipwreck  of  her  happiness  ?  No  !  she  would  have 
saved  this  gifted,  noble  soul  from  the  wiles  and  enticements  of  a 
showy,  heartless  woman,  and  have  told  him  of  her  willingness 


136  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

to  share  her  wealth  with  him,  or  by  a  life  of  labor,  if  need  be, 
to  test  her  devotion  and  love.  So  help  me  heaven !  I  will  never 
submit  to  trammels  rivetted  upon  me  by  long  ages  of  degrada 
tion  of  my  sex,  and  of  distrust  of  womanhood;  but  this  is 
wisdom  now  all  too  late !  " 

With  these  words,  the  young  lady  hastily  left  the  room,  fol 
lowed  by  Gertrude,  who  led  her  into  her  chamber,  where  this 
young  heart  poured  forth  its  griefs  into  the  bosom  of  Gertrude, 
who  soothed  her  as  best  she  could,  and  told  her  how  deeply 
she  had  entered  into  all  her  trials. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  Do  you  know  it  was  I  ?  And 
have  I,  indeed,  been  so  great  a  simpleton  ?  0,  how  childish  I 
have  been !  I  thought  I  could  command  myself,  but  I  have 
betrayed  my  secret.  0,  what  unsurpassed  stupidity  is  mine  !  " 
And  she  wept  bitterly. 

"  Ah !  I  have  not  told  all,"  she  continued.  "  I  did  not 
reveal  that  he  knows  my  love,  and  is  as  wretched  as  a  man 
hopelessly  bound  can  be  made.  It  is  so,  and  I  regret  it  is  so  ; 
for  his  sake,  I  would  he  were  indifferent  to  me ;  but  he  is  not. 
He  loves  me ;  yes,  I  knew  he  loved  me,  but  it  was  a  hopeless 
love.  He  thought  me  cold,  when  I  was  putting  myself  under 
the  severest  restraint  to  act  out  the  concealment  prescribed  by 
society,  and  in  conformity  with  the  wretched  prejudices  of 
women,  —  one  long-continued  lie.  One  word  would  have  saved 
him,  one  word  would  have  saved  me ;  but  now  all  is  dark  and 
hopeless." 

Gertrude  now  told  her  of  the  Celestial  City;  that  it  was, 
perhaps,  in  this  way  her  idol  had  been  cast  down,  and  her  ties 


THE    OXFORD   TAVERN.  137 

to  the  world  broken,  that  she  might  commence  the  pilgrimage ; 
and  invited  her  to  join  their  company. 

"  I  could  go  anywhere  with  him"  replied  the  girl,  " if  he 
were  my  companion  and  guide,  but  I  am  too  weak  to  go  alone. 
I  ought  to  go  ;  it  would  be  best  for  me  ;  but  my  home  is  where 
he  is,  and  I  cannot  leave  him  behind.  Whether  I  shall  ever 
follow  you  I  cannot  tell.  It  is  all  darkness  in  my  soul,  and  I  am 

young,  —  so  young,  and  yet  so  wretched !  " 

[ 

The  next  day,  having  paid  their  bills  and  received  a  separate 
bill  for  each  one,  with  the  Celestial  City  in  the  clouds,  and  the 
direction  to  all  pilgrims,  in  old  English  letter,  at  the  bottom,  — 

«2£eep  to  tM  j&tjj!)t  as  t&e  2Lato  Directs," 

—  they  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  all  those  from  whom  they 
had  received  the  courtesies  of  the  hotel,  and  went  over  to  the 
Oxford  Tavern, 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

OF   THE   FOUNDATIONS    OF    DELL*    ITALIA   AND   THE    OXFORD. 

THE  pilgrims  were  received  by  the  Interpreter  of  the  Oxford 
Tavern  with  an  air  of  restrained  courtesy,  calculated  to  impress 
upon  them  that  it  was  a  favor  conferred  on  them  to  be  received 
as  guests  into  his  house.  The  company  was  very  fashion 
able,  and  the  range  of  topics  was  entirely  different  from  the 
12* 


138  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

Tremont.  They  cared  little  or  nothing  for  science  or  litera 
ture,  at  the  Oxford,  but  matters  of  taste,  fashion,  and  piety 
were  always  current  among  the  guests. 

Our  party  soon  made  the  discovery  that  there  was  a  great 
rivalry  between  the  Interpreters  of  the  Casino  d'ltalia  and  the 
Oxford  Tavern,  and  they  bandied  the  epithets  "schismatics" 
and  "  heretics,"  whenever  they  became  very  angry.  And  it  was 
all  about  the  House,  its  foundations,  its  structure,  its  furniture 
and  apparel ;  every  one  of  these  topics  was  a  matter  of  constant 
crimination  and  recrimination.  The  Interpreters  dell'  Italia  con 
tended  that  their  house  rested  on  the  Rock  of  Peter,  as  it  was 
styled  in  former  days,  and  covered  the  entire  surface ;  that  it 
was  the  primitive  rock,  and  that  the  Oxford  Tavern,  though 
very  like  their  house  in  its  exterior,  was  built  on  a  secondary 
formation.  Now,  the  Oxford  people  were  far  more  courteous  than 
their  neighbors,  for  they  cheerfully  and  at  once  conceded  that  dell' 
Italia  was  founded  on  the  primitive  rock,  but  they  contended 
theirs  also  stood  on  the  self-same  rock.  And  so  this  ques 
tion  had  been  a  matter  of  controversy  for  centuries. 

Now,  there  were  other  people  who  chose  to  have  an  opin 
ion  about  all  these  matters,  as  well  as  themselves.  And 
we  will  here  state  what  our  pilgrims  learned,  little  by  little, 
during  their  pilgrimage,  on  this  head.  These  "  non-conform 
ists,"  as  they  were  once  called,  and  more  recently  "  dissent 
ers,"  held  that  these  claims  about  the  rock  on  which  these 
houses  were  built  had  been  set  forth  in  the  dark  ages, 
before  geology  had  taken  its  place  among  the  sciences ;  at  a 
time  when  the  classification  of  the  several  stratifications  of  the 
earth's  surface  was  entirely  unknown,  and  rock  was  a  general 


OE  THE   FOUNDATION   STONES.  139 

term  including  all  formations,  whether  primitive,  diluvial,  or 
tertiary.  Now,  then,  when  these  foundations  came  to  be 
thoroughly  scanned,  it  was  the  concurrent  testimony  of  the 
best  authorities  that  Casino  dell'  Italia  had  been  built  upon 
trap  ;  hence  the  proverbial  phrase,  "  up  to  trap,"  signifying  the 
fraud  and  cunning  which  characterized  its  servitors ;  and  the 
Oxford  foundations,  though  so  near,  were,  as  was  contended  by 
those  of  d'ltalia,  different,  being  a  conglomerate,  called  by  the 
vulgar  pudding-stone,  but  known  in  science  as  Breccia,  some 
times  firm  as  marble,  and  at  other  times  having  little  cohesion. 
That  there  were  signs  of  disintegration  could  not  be  denied,  and 
there  were  those  who  were  confident  the  house  would  fall  down ; 
but  our  pilgrims  saw  no  signs  of  this.  Indeed,  it  seemed  a  very 
well-built  house,  and  likely  to  stand  for  centuries.  It  was  true, 
there  Were  some  cracks  which  ran  down  the  walls,  and  some  of 
the  towers  leaned  a  little.  This  was  owing  to  the  fact,  that,  in 
the  erection  of  the  house,  the  mortar  was  not  all  sound,  —  some 
parts  being  built  with  Roman  cement,  and  other  parts  of 
common  mortar ;  while  the  dell'  Italia  was  all  laid  in  Roman 
cement,  and  had  become  petrified.  No  change,  therefore,  in 
that  structure  could  be  made ;  and  there  it  stood,  in  all  its  lofty 
grandeur,  a  monument  of  the  dark  ages. 


140  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER    XXVII.* 

TIIE    BISHOP    OF    INPINETARIS,    AND    HIS    PENITENTIARY. 

THE  week  opened,  at  the  Oxford  Tavern,  by  the  coming  in 
of  that  very  eminent  prelate,  the  Bishop  of  Iripinetaris,  accom 
panied  by  his  Penitentiary.  /, ,,,  ( 

These  gentlemen  wore  the  semi-sacerdotal  garb  of  the  servi 
tors  of  dell'  Italia.  Their  entrance  into  the  saloon,  where  the 
guests  were  all  assembled,  in  expectation  of  their  coming,  was 
attended  with  quite  a  sensation.  The  ladies,  especially  the 
young  ladies,  went  down  upon  their  knees  at  once,  folding  their 
hands  over  their  bosoms,  and  curving  their  pretty  necks  before 
him,  for  his  blessing. 

Our  pilgrims  were  astonished  to  see  this  example  universally 
followed.  To  them  it  was  all  new ;  but  they  were  told  it  was  a 
custom  introduced  by  the  clergy  of  the  Babylonian  Convention, 
who  had  gone  in  procession,  in  all  their  robes,  to  the  mansion  of 
their  diocesan,  and,  on  his  entrance  into  the  saloon  filled  with 
these  modern  evangelists,  kneeled,  and  received  his  blessing; 
since  which,  this  had  become  recognized  as  not  only  apostolical, 
but,  as  Mr.  John  Brown,  Sexton,  pertinently  remarked  at  the 
time,  "  very  re-churcha" 

The  arrival  of  a  Penitentiary  was  really  delightful,  for  now 
the  young  ladies  could  be  shrived  in  their  own  house,  and  needed 
not  to  go  slyly  into  the  cloisters  of  dell'  Italia  for  absolution ; 
for  this  would  have  grieved  their  host,  who  could  not  endure 

*  This  chapter  was  written  in  December,  1851. 


COUNT  DE  VILLE'S  VISIT.  141 

perverts,  though  he  longed  greatly  for  converts,  and,  indeed,  he 
believed  the  time  would  come  when  the  wire-bridge  would  bring 
in  more  than  it  carried  away. 

The  conduct  of  our  party,  in  standing  while  all  others  in  the 
parlor  knelt,  drew  upon  them  looks  askant,  which  made  them 
feel  very  uncomfortable ;  as  singularity  of  conduct,  however 
conscientious  it  may  be,  never  fails  to  do.  The  company,  too, 
cut  them  directly  and  perseveringly  all  that  day  and  the  next. 
But  how  little  a  matter  changes  the  current  of  opinion  at  a 
watering-place,  or  a  grand  hotel  full  of  fashionables,  as  to  the 
character  and  consequence  of  strangers.  About  six  o'clock,  as 
the  company  of  the  Oxford  were  out  upon  the  porch,  some  sit 
ting,  and  others  walking  under  the  trees,  a  lady  descried  the 
approach  of  Count  de  Ville's  landau;  and,  so  soon  as  this  was 
told,  the  guests  all  stood,  awaiting  its  coming.  The  count's 
landau  was  open,  —  for  the  day  was  very  beautiful,  —  and  drawn 
by  six  splendid  black  horses,  attended  by  four  outriders  in  rich 
liveries.  The  count  sat  at  his  ease  on  the  back  seat ;  while  his 
secretary,  in  a  suit  of  black,  very  precise  and  bolt  upright,  sat 
fronting  his  master.  The  count  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed 
gracefully,  as  he  passed  on,  while  the  secretary  just  raised  his 
hat. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  turn-out  ?  "  said  Miss  Virginia  Tal- 
bot,  addressing  Frank  and  Annie.  "  You  see  the  nicest  dis 
crimination  made  by  his  secretary ;  he  did  not  presume  to  share 
in  his  master's  courtesy  as  he  passed,  but  yet  acknowledged  the 
presence  of  ladies  by  raising  his  hat.  Ah  !  it  is  by  such  little 
things  as  these,  you  feel  that  Count  de  Ville  is  one  of  the  most 
polished  gentlemen  of  the  age." 


142  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"When  the  bishop  heard  that  Count  de  Ville  was  approach 
ing,  he  was  sure  the  visit  was  in  honor  of  his  presence,  and 
had  gone  into  the  saloon  with  his  penitentiary  to  receive  him. 
The  landau  passed  on ;  but,  so  soon  as  the  count  alighted, 
his  secretary,  having  received  some  message,  came  directly 
toward  the  Oxford,  while  the  count  entered  dell'  Italia.  The 
guests  all  now  came  into  the  saloon  where  the  bishop  was  stand 
ing.  Our  pilgrims  went  into  the  saloon  as  mere  "  lookers-on 
in  Vienna,"  when  the  secretary,  having  scanned  those  in  the 
room,  on  discovering  Frank  and  his  friends,  approached,  with 
many  bows.  He  spoke  in  a  clear,  low  tone,  as  follows  : 

"  The  Count  de  Ville  regrets  you  declined  his  invitation  to 
meet  Father  Geriot  and  his  wards  last  week.  He  has  come  out 
to  the  Hotel  dell'  Italia  to  visit  Father  Geriot ;  and  will  now, 
with  your  permission,  call  upon  you,  with  Father  Geriot  and 
his  wards,  that  he  may  introduce  them  to  the  honor  of  your 
acquaintance.  Count  de  Ville  will  be  pleased  to  receive  your 
commands." 

Frank  answered :  "  Present  our  compliments  to  Count  de 
Ville,  and  say  we  shall  be  happy  to  see  him  and  his  friends." 

The  secretary  withdrew,  and  our  pilgrims  found  themselves 

at  once  "  the  observed  of  all  observers." 

/ 

While  they  are  waiting  for  the  count,  we  will  inform  our 
readers  that,  the  day  before  leaving  the  Tremont  House,  three 
of  Count  de  Ville's  servants  were  discovered  by  Mr.  Tollman 
and  the  ladies  on  the  veranda,  coming  on  horseback  through 
the  Wicket-Gate. 

"  I  am  really  curious,"  said  Mr.  Tollman,  "  to  know  who  is  to 


OF   COUNT   DE   VILLE.  143 

be  honored  by  an  invitation  from  the  count.  Such  an  event  is 
rare,  now-a-days.  He  has,  of  late  years,  treated  the  Tremont 
and  its  guests  with  great  neglect." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Frank,  "  I  am  surprised  at  this." 

"It  is  astonishing,"  said  Mr.  Tollman,  "  that  a  man  of  his 
taste  and  refinement,  and  one,  too,  who  was  at  the  time  greatly 
interested  in  all  the  changes  and  improvements  made  in  this 
hotel,  —  all  of  which  were  after  his  own  plans,  —  should  now 
care  so  little  about  our  success ;  when,  too,  our  guests  patronize 
his  railroad  so  constantly." 

"  How  was  it  that  we  were  so  kindly  entertained  ? "  asked 
Annie. 

"0,  that 's  easily  explained  :  you  were  on  foot.  If  you  had 
come  out  in  the  Cambridge  or  Roxbury  line,  you  never  would 
have  seen  the  inside  of  his  house,  —  never  !  " 

"  We  have  heard  very  many  stories  about  this  Count  de  Ville," 
said  Frank,  addressing  Mr.  Tollman.  "  Will  you  please  say  what 
you  regard  as  the  truth  concerning  him  ?  " 

Mr.  Tollman  replied  :  "At  the  breaking  out  of  the  revolution, 
the  count  appeared,  an  emigre,  with  nothing  but  his  talents  to 
help  him.  Afterwards,  it  would  seem,  some  portion  of  his 
property  was  restored  to  him,  and  there  are  reasons  for  enter 
taining  the  opinion  that  he  had  held  a  high  rank  in  society  and 
in  the  government ;  but  what  this  position  was  has  never 
been  exactly  ascertained.  Some  have  said  he  was  a  prince. 
However  that  may  be,  for  reasons  satisfactory  to  himself,  he  has 
been  always  known  in  this  country  as  Count  de  Ville.  Probably 
a  higher  rank  was  incompatible  with  the  methods  by  which  he 
was  now  building  up  his  broken  fortunes." 


144  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

One  of  the  young  ladies  spoke  up  and  said,  "  She  believed  he 
was  a  Jesuit  in  disguise." 

"  And  why  a  Jesuit  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  0,  he  has  never  been  married  !  "  replied  the  young  lady. 

The  Moorish-looking  servant,  with  eyes  which  made  Gertrude 
shrink  aside,  now  came  upon  the  veranda,  and  Mr.  Tollman,  with 
a  gratified  air,  advanced  to  receive  the  billet.  The  servant  re 
treated,  bowing,  as  Mr.  Tollman  advanced.  Mr.  Tollman,  with 
the  air  of  one  offended,  stood,  while  the  servant,  taking  off  his 
turban-like  cap,  advanced,  and,  kneeling  to  Annie,  presented  her 
the  note,  which  she  took  and  handed  to  Oliver.  Oliver  was 
about  to  break  the  seal,  when  Miss  Quincy  begged  him  to  per 
mit  her  to  cut  the  envelope  open  with  her  scissors,  so  as  to 
save  the  beautiful  seal,  which  she  desired  for  her  collection. 
Oliver  gave  her  the  envelope,  and,  to  please  the  group  of  ladies, 
who  had  gathered  like  bees  around  him,  he  read  the  note  aloud, 
thus: 

"  Count  de  Ville  presents  his  compliments  to  his  pilgrim 
friends,  Outright  and  Trueman,  and  their  fair  ladies.  He  begs 
them  to  dine  with  him  at  six,  this  day.  Father  Geriot,  with  his 
wards,  Blanco  and  Angelique  Seville,  who,  like  themselves,  are 
pilgrims,  will  meet  them.  It  is  the  wish  of  Count  de  Ville  that 
they  should  make  the  acquaintance  of  Father  Geriot. 

"  An  answer  is  respectfully  requested. 

"  DE  VILLE. 

"  Chateau,  Friday  morning.'* 
i 

This  invitation,  to  the  surprise  of  their  friends  at  the  Tre- 
mont,  they  declined.  This  will  explain  the  message  of  the 
count. 


COUNT   DE   VILLE.  145 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

COUNT  DE  VILLE'S  VISIT  TO  THE  OXFORD  HOUSE. 

COUNT  DE  YILLE  entered  the  saloon,  accompanied  by  two 
ecclesiastics,  and  a  young  man  and  girl.  He  greeted  our  pil 
grims  with  the  greatest  kindness,  and  presented  Father  Geriot 
next,  Angelique  Seville  and  her  brother  Blanco ;  and  last,  Father 
Gerund.  These  being  all  seated,  the  count,  in  his  own  most 
persuasive  manner,  which  would  have  adorned  the  court  of  Louis 
le  Grand,  told  of  his  regret  at  not  seeing  them  again  at  his 
chateau.  He  said  it  was  "  because  he  had  so  few  attractions,  and 
only  his  poor  self  for  society ; "  and,  perceiving  our  friends 
embarrassed  what  to  reply,  he  went  on  directly  to  speak  of 
Father  Geriot  and  his  wards,  who  were  all  on  their  way  to  the 
Celestial  City.  Our  pilgrims  expressed  their  satisfaction  to 
make  their  acquaintance,  and  returned  all  thanks  to  the  count 
for  his  distinguished  friendship.  Oliver  and  Frank  talked  with 
the  fathers,  Gertrude  interested  the  young  girl  and  her  brother, 
and  the  count  made  himself  happy  in  talking  to  Annie.  His 
manners  were  exceedingly  winning.  There  was  such  deference, 
a  falling  of  his  eye,  as  if  her  glance  was  too  bright  for  him  to 
look  upon ;  and  then  a  vein  of  sarcasm,  like  a  thread  of  silver, 
ran  through  his  playful  replies,  keeping  up  Annie  to  a  most 
happy  conversational  excitement,  in  which  she  was  herself  sur 
prised  at  her  own  felicity  and  ease;  while  the  others* of  the 
party  soon  did  little  more  than  listen  to  their  war  of  wit. 

Gertrude  had  time  to  analyze  the  looks  of  her  young  friends, 
13 


146  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

while  they  listened  with  pleased  attention  to  Annie  and  the  count 
Angelique  was  a  fair  beauty  of  sixteen,  whose  blue  eyes  and 
dark  eyebrows  showed  the  mingling  of  the  blood  of  two  races 
in  her  veins  ;  her  brother  looked  about  twenty,  finely  grown,  his 
face  marked  with  strong  passions,  and  his  eye  glancing  fire  M 
it  lit  up  with  emotion.  The  reverend  fathers  in  their  cassocks 
looked  like  fiends  in  strait-jackets.  They  wore  the  dress  of 
the  order  of  Jesus,  and,  Jesuit-like,  never  permitted  one  to  look 
them  full  in  the  eye,  but  let  their  eyes  fall  to  the  ground  with  a 
reverent  air,  acquired  by  long  practice ;  while  out  of  the  corners 
of  the  eye  there  shot  sinister  glances,  such  as  made  Gertrude 
shrink.  Father  Geriot  seemed  to  be  one  to  whom  the  year  was 
a  long  carnival,  —  himself  the  impersonation  of  sensuality  and 
cunnino". 

The  Interpreter  of  the  Oxford  approached,  and,  bowing  to  the 
count,  said  : 

"  The  Bishop  of  Inpinetaris  would  be  gratified  to  be  presented 
to  you,  at  your  leisure." 

On  this,  the  fathers  rose,  with  their  wards,  and,  expressing  the 
hope  of  seeing  our  pilgrims  at  dell'  Italia,  withdrew.  The  lord 
bishop  and  his  penitentiary  were  then  presented,  with  due  form, 
and  were  received  by  the  count  with  great  dignity ;  after  which, 
they  were  presented  by  the  count  to  our  pilgrims,  and  then  took 
the  seats  vacated  by  Father  Geriot  and  his  party. 

The  conversation  was  very  formal,  at  first,  on  the  part  of  the 
bishop,  but  maintained  by  the  count  with  perfect  ease.  He 
seemed  to  be  well  acquainted  with  the  bishop's  public  life,  and 
spoke  in  terms  of  high  approbation  of  the  bishop's  "  Order  of 
the  Holy  Cross,  at  Valle  Crucis ; "  and  delicately  suggested  the 


THE  BISHOP  OF  INPINETARIS.  _       147 

expediency  of  an  "  Order  of  Sisters  of  the  Sacred  Heart,"  to 
match  the  Order  of  the  Holy  Brotherhood.  This  he  deemed  not 
only  desirable,  but  all  experience,  in  all  countries,  had  shown 
the  necessity  of  a  nunnery  in  the  vicinage  of  a  monastery.  The 
bishop  acquiesced ;  but  thought  it  best  for  him  to  proceed  with 
caution,  lest  the  laity  should  become  alarmed  by  a  too  palpable 
conformity  to  the  Church  of  Rome.  He  expressed  his  earnest 
desire  to  bring  about  a  reunion  of  all  apostolical  churches,  and 
that,  "  among  the  effects  of  this  desire,  he  had  been  induced  to 
tolerate  the  Romish  notion  of  invocation  of  the  saints ; "  and  also 
the  establishing  of  penitentiaries  for  "  auricular  confession  and 
absolution,"  as  necessary  to  salvation ;  and  he  had  even  permitted 
himself  to  "  entertain  doubts  whether  our  branch  of  the  church 
was  not  in  a  state  of  schism."  And  more  :  his  language  at  the 
holy  communion  had  been  such  as  to  "  expose  himself  to  miscon 
struction  by  the  use  of  the  term  '  real  presence,'  by  which  some 
supposed  he  held  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation." 

The  count  listened  with  evident  pleasure,  and  the  bishop  led 
off  the  conversation  to  the  subject  of  ecclesiology,  in  which,  he 
said,  he  was  deeply  interested.  He  spoke  with  great  warmth  of 
the  utter  neglect  of  this  subject  in  the  church,  and  his  efforts  to 
revive  its  ancient  symbolism,  —  "to  restore  the  era  when  religious 
architecture  was  the  exponent  of  religious  feelings,  typical  of 
doctrines,  and  symbolical  of  faith."  *  The  count  said  the  bishop 
had  expressed  his  own  views  in  this  matter,  and  he  hoped  there 
would  be  no  half-way  measures  adopted.  The  most  manifest 
neglect  (and  it  was  surprising  how  it  could  be  so  long  continued) 

*  See  "  Ecclesiologist,"  Nos.  n.  and  in.,  for  January,  1849. 


148  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

was  the  placing  and  construction  of  the  font,  — "  the  font, 
which  was  the  corner-stone  of  all  things  else." 

This  last  remark  was  made  by  the  count  in  the  most  impressive 
manner,  and  it  seemed  to  reach  the  sanctuary  of  the  bishop's  heart. 
He  responded  to  it  with  enthusiasm.  "  I  think  so,  Count  de  Ville, 
—  I  think  so  !  It  is  so  mortifying  to  me  to  see  a  mere  bowl  placed 
on  the  rail  of  the  chancel,  and  it  is  sometimes  nothing  better  than 
earthenware ;  and  this  is  the  font !  The  font,  Count  de  Ville, 
in  which  the  water  is  held  '  wherein?  not  wherewith,  —  mark 
that,  sir ;  so  says  our  catechism,  so  say  our  rubrics,  — '  the 
infant  is  to  be  baptized.'  Alas  !  Count  de  Ville,  our  divergence 
on  this  point  is  immense.  The  Bishop  of  Exeter  agrees  with  you 
perfectly  as  to  baptism  being  the  corner-stone  of  our  church  edi 
fice.  But  I  am  pained  to  see  the  elaborate  folly  and  ignorance 
shown  by  churchmen.  Why,  sir,  we  have  solid  marble  fonts  in 
our  churches,  costly  as  need  be ;  but,  sir,  they  will  not  hold  more 
than  a  cupfull  of  water." 

The  count  smiled  at  the  warmth  of  my  lord  bishop,  and  asked 
him,  in  a  sly  way,  as  if  he  had  some  little  humor  in  his  heart  at 
the  moment,  "  If  the  mode  now  adopted  was  anything  more  than 
immersing  the  tips  of  the  priest's  fingers  ?  " 

The  bishop  replied :  "  Public  sentiment,  and  the  sanction  of 
the  Romish  church,  had  so  completely  rivetted  this  mode  into 
the  public  mind,  that  it  could  not  now  be  changed;  but,  he  said, 
the  position  of  the  font,  the  most  manifest  propriety  of  placing 
it  in  the  vestibule,  and  not  before  the  altar,  so  that  it  shall 
symbolize  the  idea  of  being  Christianized  before  entering  into 
the  sanctuary,  was  all  so  clear,  that  he  hoped  to  induce  the  House 
of  Bishops  to  pass  a  declarative  law  on  that  matter.  He  was 


OF  THE  POSITION  OF  THE  FONT.        149 

the  more  hopeful  of  this  change,  inasmuch  as,  at  the  last  meeting 
of  the  Convocation  in  Babylonia,  a  committee  on  the  prayer-book 
had  recommended  the  change  of  a  comma  to  a  semicolon,"  which 
was  carried. 

"  But  I  think,"  said  the  count,  "  the  rubric  prescribes  a  drain 
to  the  font.  How  is  this  departure  to  be  met  ?  " 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  said  the  bishop ;  "  and  this  is  not  all. 
When  there  is  a  font,  one  made  after  the  pattern  of  the  Eliza 
bethan  age,  it  is  usually  filled  by  the  sexton,  without  any  knowl 
edge  of  the  priest,  long  before  the  service  begins,  contrary  to  the 
rubric,  which  is  express,  that  it  shall  be  filled  with  water  after 
the  minister  and  persons  to  be  baptized  have  come  to  it." 

"  May  there  not  be  serious  questionings,"  asked  the  count,  in 
very  slow,  carefully-enunciated  tones,  "  whether  a  rite  so  vitiated 
may  not  lose  all  its  efficacy  ?  " 

"  That  terrible  thought,"  replied  the  bishop,  "  has  sometimes 
obtruded  itself  upon  my  mind,  and  I  have  driven  it  from  me  as 
nothing  less  than  a  suggestion  of  the  Evil  One." 
"  Very  likely,"  replied  the  count,  demurely  enough. 
"  May  I  venture,"  asked   the   bishop,  evidently  wishing  to 
change  the  color  of  the  topic,  which  had  been  verging  from  blue 
to  black,  "  to  inquire  of  you,  sir,  what  is  symbolized  in  the  octa 
gon  form  of  the  font  ?  " 

The  count  recovered  himself,  and  soon  wore  his  usual  air  of 
amenity  and  politeness.  He  replied :  "  You  do  me  too  much 
honor  to  inquire  as  to  such  matters.  If  I  recollect  right,  the 
octagon  is  the  ancient  symbol  of  regeneration,  and  was  so  used  in 
that  symbolical  sense,  from  very  early  times,  first  in  the  form  of 
baptisteries,  and  next  in  fonts.  The  reason  appears  to  be  this  : 
13* 


150  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

as  the  number  seven  was  typical  of  the  old  creation,  the  number 
eight  typifies  the  new  creation  in  Christ,  who  rose  from  the  dead 
on  the  eighth  day.  And  I  think  St.  Ambrose  has  been  quoted 
in  proof  of  this." 

The  conversation  was  prolonged.  Though  interesting  to  our 
pilgrims,  we  will  only  indicate  the  topics  discussed,  and  upon 
which  the  count  showed  himself  remarkably  well  versed :  such  as 
the  position  of  the  tower  of  a  church-edifice ;  the  true  proportions 
of  the  chancel,  nave,  and  sacristy ;  of  the  lancet  windows,  their 
size  and  decorations ;  of  the  proper  division  of  the  chancel  into 
the  sacrarium  and  presbytery ;  of  the  altar,  super-altar,  tho 
credence-table,  the  three  sedilia,  the  fald-stood,  and  the  lectern. 
Most  important  matters,  so  it  seemed  to  those  who  listened,  — 
the  names  of  some  of  which  were  new  to  our  pilgrims,  so  very 
"  low  church  "  were  they ! 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  the  count  rose,  —  the  bishop  and  his 
penitentiary  and  our  pilgrims  rising  at  the  same  time.  A  young 
lady  who  had  been  listening  to  the  count,  by  some  odd  freak  of 
her  fancy,  not  uncommon  to  young  girls,  thought  one  so  very 
learned  in  all  church  matters  must  be  a  saint  of  some  sort,  and, 
corning  forward  (she  was  very  pretty,  and  dressed  extremely 
low),  knelt  before  the  count  for  his  blessing.  He  smiled,  took 
her  hand,  and  politely  kissed  her  forehead  as  it  was  turned  up 
with  a  bewitching  look,  very  like  some  of  the  saints  in  the  paint 
ings  of  "  the  old  masters."  "  My  sweet  young  lady,  it  is  not 
my  vocation  to  bless  you,  but  I  will  lead  you  to  one  who  will 
not  only  bless,  but  absolve  you."  So  saying,  he  led  her  up  to  the 
penitentiary,  to  whom  the  young  lady  again  kneeled,  who  placed 
himself  in  position,  and,  gobbling  up  the  uncalled-for,  adsciti- 


ANGELIQUE  AND   BLANCO   SEVILLE.  151 

tious  words  "  being  penitent,"  he  recited  the  form  of  absolution  ia 
a  tone  and  manner  most  accurately  copied  from  the  Lord  Bishop 
of  Merryland.  This  done,  the  count  spoke  a  few  words  so  very 
low  into  the  young  lady's  ear  that  she  only  knew  what  they 
were.  She  blushed,  looked  pleased,  and  a  tender  glance  came 
plump  into  the  count's  face  as  he  pressed  her  hand  in  both  of  his, 
and  said,  "  Adieu  I  we  shall  meet  again,"  Turning  to  our  ladies, 
who  were  standing  spectators  of  this  little  pantomime,  he  urged 
them  to  come  and  spend  a  week  with  him,  which  they  courteously 
declined.  He  asked  the  bishop  and  his  attendant  to  dine  with 
him  on  the  day  following,  which  they  gratefully  accepted.  They 
all  —  the  bishop,  our  pilgrims,  and  the  young  lady  —  went  to  the 
porch,  and  saw  the  count  off.  And  so  ended  the  visit ;  and  a 
most  remarkable  effect  it  had  at  the  Oxford,  on  the  standing  of 
our  pilgrims. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

OF   ANGELIQTJE   AND   BLANCO    SEVILLE, 

THE  next  day  our  pilgrims  called  on  Father  Geriot  and  his 
party,  and  were  received  with  very  great  respect.  The  brother 
and  sister  showed  Mrs.  Trueman  and  Mrs.  Outright  the  gardens, 
while  the  gentlemen  were  entertained  by  Father  Geriot,  and 
visited  the  chapel.  Blanco  and  his  sister  soon  drew  our  ladies 
into  a  talk  about  their  pilgrimage,  and  with  great  skill  and 
refinement  sought  to  win  them  to  join  the  caravan  which  waa 


152  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

under  the  guidance  of  the  fathers  of  dell'  Italia,  Gertrude,  in  her 
turn,  sought,  with  great  earnestness,  to  impress  upon  them  her 
sentiments.  With  eloquent  tears  she  spoke ;  and,  taking  a  little 
diamond  edition  of  Diodati's  Italian  New  Testament,  read  them 
passages  which  seemed  new  to  her  young  friends.  It  was  evident 
enough  that  Gertrude's  direct  appeals  were  worth  all  the  nice 
dialectics  which  the  young  student  had  at  his  finger's  end.  They 
promised  to  pray  for  each  other,  and  mutually  to  ponder  what 
had  been  said  on  both  sides.  And  thus  commenced  a  friendship, 
which  grew  more  and  more  dear  as  the  days  rolled  on.  The 
ascendency  of  Gertrude  over  the  minds  of  both  brother  and  sister 
was  manifested  in  their  ceasing  to  be  disputers,  and  becoming 
child-like  inquirers.  And  Annie  aided  her  cousin  in  making 
them  perfectly  understand  their  own  characters  in  the  sight  of 
God,  their  need  of  a  Saviour,  and  the  way  in  which  God  had 
provided  them  free  and  full  salvation,  —  so  free,  it  was  only  to 
ask,  to  receive ;  only  to  seek,  to  find.  These  were  great  ideas  in 
the  souls  of  Angelique  and  Blanco,  and  they  seemed  to  gain  some 
clear  sight  of  the  truth  of  all  Annie  had  to  say  in  confirmation 
of  the  teachings  of  Gertrude.  They  took  leave  of  each  other  at 
the  door  of  the  casino,  where  Frank  and  Father  Geriot  were 
taking  their  ease  upon  the  porch,  promising  to  meet  again  next 
morning.  The  next  day  came ;  but  they  waited  long  for  their 
friends  to  join  them  in  their  walk;  and  Oliver  went  over  to 
dell'  Italia  for  them.  He  there  learned  the  party  had  left  at 
day-break,  for  what  reason  was  not  known. 

"  Alas !  "  said  Gertrude,  "  shall  we  ever  see  them  again?  And 
if  we  do  not,  have  we  done  our  duty  ?  0,  what  a  fearful  re 
sponsibility  it  is  to  live,  Annie !  " 


THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  VALLEY.         153 

"  Yes,"  replied  Annie ;  "  and  I  only  get  glimpses  of  this  great 
truth,  'When  the  Son  of  Man  cometh,  will  he  find  faith  on  the 
earth?'" 

"  God  is  everywhere,"  said  Gertrude ;  "  that  is  my  joy  in 
thinking  of  poor  Angelique  and  Blanco.  I  am  glad  they  have 
my  Testament ;  I  hope  it  will  become  a  fountain  of  life  to  their 
souls." 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

OF  THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE  IN  THE  VALLEY. 

OUR  pilgrims,  satisfied  they  could  gain  nothing  by  a  longer 
stay,  announced  their  purpose  of  leaving  the  Oxford  Tavern. 
The  Interpreter  urged  them  to  remain  till  they  should  be  entitled 
to  a  roll,  which  was  a  necessary  passport  to  the  Celestial  City. 
This  they  respectfully  declined. 

The  day  on  which  they  set  out  anew  on  their  pilgrimage  was 
bright,  and  the  pathway  beautifully  green.  The  guide-boards  on 
both  sides  of  the  road,  put  up  by  the  two  houses,  ran  together  for 
miles,  when  those  of  dell'  Italia  slightly  diverged  to  the  left. 
Our  pilgrims  took  what  they  were  pleased  to  call  the  straight 
road ;  and,  though  a  long  hill  lay  directly  in  front  of  them,  they 
determined  to  go  up  the  hill,  this  time,  and,  as  is  always  the  case, 
they  found  it  far  less  difficult  than  it  seemed  in  the  distance.  On 
the  other  side  lay  a  rich  champaign  country,  and  in  the  valley 
was  a  large  building,  resembling,  at  that  distance,  the  Oxford 

V  a  ( fc*-f*~^ 


154  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

Tavern.  Here  they  were  received  with  great  kindness  by  the 
Interpreter  and  the  guests.  These  were  much  more  numerous 
than  at  the  Oxford  House ;  for  the  hotel  was  much  more  exten 
sive,  though  built  upon  the  same  plan  precisely.  It  was,  in  some 
sort,  the  opposition  establishment  to  the  Oxford ;  and  certainly 
there  was  no  sympathy  existing  between  the  Interpreters,  though 
our  pilgrims  were  of  opinion  (the  result  of  their  intercourse  dur 
ing  their  stay)  that  most  of  the  guests  had  little  knowledge  or  inter 
est  in  matters  which  their  teachers  regarded  as  important,  if  not 
vital.  There  were  a  few  in  this  lower  house  (speaking  of  it  now 
simply  in  reference  to  its  position,  and  relatively  to  the  Oxford 
Tavern)  whose  hearts  were  full  of  the  importance  of  the  differ 
ences  subsisting  between  them,  and  who  regarded  the  teachings 
of  the  Oxford  Interpreter  as  being  nothing  less  than  the  blind 
leading  the  blind.  In  one  thing  all  agreed,  which  was,  that  their 
house  was  built  upon  the  rock  Peter,  —  the  only  rock  on  which 
an  Interpreter's  House  could  be  built.  They,  too,  held  that  dell' 
Italia  and  the  Oxford  were  both  built  on  the  primitive  founda 
tion  stone,  which,  they  said,  cropped  out  (to  use  the  language  of 
geology)  at  this  point ;  and  they  were  really  offended  (some  of 
them  at  least)  when  Oliver  said  it  was  a  conglomerate,  and  very 
liable  to  disintegration. 


NASSAU  HALL.  155 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

OF   THE   OLD   AND   NEW    SCHOOL   HOTELS. 

P+t        *:        U 

TAKING  an  affectionate  leave  of  the  inmates  of  the  rival  house 
to  the  Oxford  Tavern,  they  resumed  their  journey ;  and,  as  the 
atmosphere  was  bracing,  they  made  good  progress,  and  reached 
the  summit  level  of  the  land  rising  from  the  valley  into  which 
they  had  descended  from  the  Oxford,  and  in  which  the  lower 
house  was  built.  Here,  they  saw  two  stately  buildings  of  vast 
size  standing  over  against  each  other,  alike  in  every  particular, 
only  the  one,  whose  new  gilt  sign  bore  the  letters  "New 
School  Hotel,"  had  been  either  recently  built,  or  was  freshly 
painted.  The  other  house  bore  on  its  old,  weather-beaten  sign 
board,  the  name  of  " Nassau  Hall"  Our  travellers  did  not  see 
that  it  was  worth  a  pin's  head  at  which  house  they  put  up ;  and 
so  they  entered  "  Nassau  Hall."  The  host  asked  them  of  the 
way,  their  motives  in  making  the  journey,  and  other  inquiries 
which  he  said  were  fitting  to  be  answered  by  his  guests.  He 
was  well  pleased  with  their  answers,  and  told  them  it  would  give 
him  great  pleasure  to  promote  their  views  in  any  way  in  his 
power.  The  guests  were  numerous  in  both  these  houses ;  and, 
though  the  Interpreters  were  hostile  to  each  other,  and  at  times 
exceedingly  quarrelsome,  the  guests  did  not  care  much  for  their 
differences.  Indeed,  the  creation  of  the  rival  house  was  a  mat 
ter  about  which  the  people  knew  very  little  more  than  this,  that, 
a  few  years  before,  at  a  general  meeting  of  the  stockholders,  a 
pugnacious  western_man,  with  a  law-book  in  one  hand  and  a 
bowie-knife  in  the  other,  insisted  that  those  who  differed  from 


156  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

him  and  his  party  should  leave  the  house  ;  and,  his  friends  back 
ing  him  up  fiercely,  they  drove  twice  their  own  number  out  of 
doors.  But  after  a  while  a  compromise  was  agreed  to,  and  the 
new  hotel  rose  into  being. 

In  building  this  new  hotel,  great  care  was  taken  to  lay  down, 
as  the  foundation,  similar  stones,  and  of  precisely  the  same 
size  and  form  and  super-position,  as  in  the  old  hotel.  And, 
if  the  stockholders  of  the  new  house  had  but  been  content  with 
doing  this,  they  would  have  saved  themselves  much  disputa 
tion,  for  the  old-house  men  would  never  consent  to  have  a 
single  stone  changed,  nor  the  least  plastering  and  whitewash 
ing  put  on,  to  make  the  foundation  look  smooth ;  but  all  the 
sharp  points  must  be  left  just  as  the  stones  were  quarried,  or 
as  God  had  made  them.  But  the  new-hotel  men  had  a  great 
wish  to  improve  upon  their  fathers'  method  of  doing  things; 
and,  in  fact,  they  did  what  they  could  with  whitewash  to  make 
their  house  look  attractive.  This  was  a  great  source  of  dis 
pleasure  to  the  proprietors  of  the  old  hotel,  who  soon  made  a 
grand  discovery,  that  the  new  house  did  not  stand  plumb  ;  and, 
to  satisfy  Frank  and  Oliver  of  this  fact,  the  Interpreter  pro 
duced  his  newly -patented  plumb-line,  siding-scale,  and  dividers, 
which  he  offered  to  apply  to  the  new  hotel,  to  convince  them ; 
but  the  extreme  delicacy  of  the  lines  was  such  that  neither 
Frank  nor  Oliver  could  discern  any  variation,  —  nothing  which 
was  worth  noticing.  But  the  old-house  Interpreter  insisted  he 
could  satisfy  them  of  the  truth  of  all  he  had  said.  And  they 
went  over  with  him,  to  see  him  apply  his  instruments  to  the  base 
line  and  sides  of  the  new  hotel ;  but,  really,  they  could  make 
nothing  of  it. 


THE  HOUSE  AT  YALE.  157 

"  Now,  then,"  said  the  Interpreter,  "  this  house  has  already 
a  bias,  which  in  time  will  upset  it ;  and  all  because  the  founda 
tions  have  already  become  unsettled,  and  are  giving  way." 

Frank  and  Oliver  looked  in  vain ;  they  had  not  the  micro 
scopic  eye  to  discern  the  variation ;  and,  in  their  judgment,  for 
all  useful  purposes,  one  house  was  just  as  stable  and  upright  as 
the  other. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

OF  THE  INTERPRETER'S  HOUSE  AT  YALE. 

OUR  friends  made  a  short  stay  with  the  Interpreter  at  Nassau 
Hall ;  and,  on  parting,  he  cautioned  them  not  to  put  up  at  Yale 
House,  for  he  said  the  atmosphere  had  of  late  years  been  such 
as  to  threaten  death  to  all  who  inhaled  it.  And  our  pilgrims 
would  have  followed  his  advice,  had  they  not  met  on  the  way 
other  pilgrims,  who  assured  them  this  was  all  prejudice,  and 
that  no  Interpreter's  Hotel  along  the  road  was  more  healthful 
than  old  Yale. 

Our  pilgrims  soon  reached  this  house,  whose  exterior  was  very 
like  the  Nassau  Hall  Hotel,  —  the  same  sort  of  foundations,  and 
a  door  of  entrance  of  the  same  width  precisely  ;  but  the  interior 
arrangements  they  found  somewhat  different,  and,  as  they  thought, 
a  decided  improvement.  A  great  contest  was  going  on  at  the  time 
of  their  arrival.  The  house  was  full,  and  a  proprietors'  meeting 
being  held,  at  which  they  attended  in  common  with  other  guests. 
It  was  all  about  a  plan  of  changing  the  position  of  the  foundation 
stones.  One  of  the  master-builders  declared  his  conviction  that  a 
14 


158  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

change  was  called  for.  Our  pilgrims  were  induced  to  go  out  and 
see  for  themselves.  The  stones  were  vast  in  their  dimensions  ; 
and,  to  have  placed  them  as  they  lay,  one  upon  another,  seemed 
the  labor  of  giants  in  comparison  with  men  of  modern  days. 
The  proposition  made  by  the  chief  architect  for  the  time  being, 
was,  to  turn  the  stones  end  for  end,  and  so  get  rid  of  all  the 
roughnesses  now  so  very  unsightly.  He  had  been  hammering  at 
these  sharp  and  irregular  projections  for  years,  and  sought  to 
make  the  stones  wear  a  smooth,  uniform  appearance ;  but  noth 
ing,  he  said,  would  be  so  important  as  a  change  of  fronts.  At 
the  same  time,  a  gentleman  of  genius  and  enterprise  brought  to 
the  notice  of  the  proprietors  a  new  kind  of  cement,  of  his  own 
invention,  which,  in  a  fluid  state,  was  wrought  into  any  form, 
and  when  dry,  grew  hard  as  adamant.  But  his  proposal  was  not 
entertained.  $y  h&^ 

Indeed,  both  the  architect  and  the  tiler  of  the  house  protested 
o/Lsr-  against  the  application  of  this  new  cement  of  Mr.  Plastic ;  but  he 
was  not  a  man  to  be  turned  aside  from  his  purposes ;  so  he  actu 
ally  covered  the  external  wall,  between  his  room  windows,  as  well 
as  the  interior  walls  of  the  room  he  called  his  own.  It  was  in 
vain  to  remonstrate.  They  talked  of  turning  him  out  of  the  house  ; 
but  his  friends,  though  few,  were  firm  ;  and  the  proprietors  con 
sented  to  let  the  plaster  stick,  an  unsightly  patch  as  it  was,  upon 
the  walls  of  their  beloved  mansion,  hoping  in  time  it  would 
crumble  back  to  dust.  And,  though  it  had  been  up  but  a  few  years 
when  our  pilgrims  reached  Yale  House,  this  patch  had  already 
begun  to  crack,  and  presented  a  very  scaly,  shabby  appearance. 

And  so  it  was,  our  pilgrims  found  the  guests  along  the  road  so 
absorbed  as  to  these  foundation  stones,  and  other  matters  con- 


THE  WESLEYAN  HOUSE.  159 

nected  with  these  various  Interpreters'  Houses,  and  their  rivalries 
and  internal  dissensions  of  proprietors,  and  others,  that  it  seemed 
to  be  the  chief  topic  of  discourse.  The  object  for  which  they  were 
built,  and  the  aid  they  were  designed  to  afford  to  pilgrims  in 
reaching  the  Celestial  City,  had  become  secondary,  if  not  obsolete. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE    WESLEYAN,    ANDOVER,    AND   ROGER,    WILLIAMS   HOUSES. 

WE  shall  hasten  on  with  our  pilgrims,  for  it  is  a  weary  pil 
grimage  for  our  readers  to  stop  at  every  Interpreter's  House 
they  found  along  the  road. 

There  was  a  very  spacious  house,  at  which  they  remained  a 
short  time,  known  as  the  Wesleyan.  It  had  not  the  same  labor 
bestowed  upon  the  foundations  as  the  other  houses  they  had  vis 
ited,  for  a  part  of  the  building  rested  on  piles  only.  Besides, 
it  was  only  one  story  in  height,  and  covered  over  a  great  space  of 
ground.  It  was  certainly  very  commodious,  as  well  as  spacious ; 
and,  instead  of  one  narrow  entrance,  it  had  wide  entrances  on 
every  side.  To  our  pilgrims'  apprehension,  these  "Wesleyans 
took  a  very  common-sense  view  of  the  matter.  They  asked, 
"If  you  are  in  the  house,  what  do  you  care  for  the  steps, 
whether  of  stone  or  wood,  or  which  point  of  the  compass  you 
came  in  at  ?  All  that  is  needed  is  to  get  into  the  house." 

They  next  came  to  a  spacious  hotel,  built  upon  an  elevated 
range  of  country,  called  Andover,  —  in  laying  the  foundations  of 


160  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

which,  the  grandest  efforts  of  modern  architects  were  tasked.  It 
was  a  work  of  great  solicitude  and  care ;  and,  strange  to  say, 
though  it  had  not  been  built  a  half-century,  the  present  archi 
tects  were  at  work  upon  these  very  foundations.  And  this  was 
by  the  application  of  a  German  cement,  which  had  the  singular 
property  of  expanding  in  drying  to  the  hardness  of  granite. 
Whatever  crevice  was  stopped  up  by  it  was  made  larger ;  and  it 
is  said  that  structures  of  vast  extent,  which  had  been  built  for 
centuries  in  Germany,  had  been  thrown  out  of  plumb,  and  finally 
destroyed.  Yet,  with  all  these  results  before  them,  this  German 
cement  was  now  in  vogue.  At  another  Interpreter's  House,  re 
cently  built  on  Newton  Hill,  a  new  house,  they  were  already 
beginning  to  plaster  its  foundations  with  this  German  cement. 

Our  pilgrims  made  but  brief  calls  at  these  houses,  when  they 
next  came  to  the  Roger  Williams  House,  which  stood  on  the 
slope  of  a  hill  commanding  a  beautiful  prospect  of  the  sur 
rounding  country. 

The  host,  a  gentleman  in  the  maturity  of  manhood,  whose 
smiling  eyes  were  overhung  by  ponderous  eyebrows,  and  whose 
broad,  high  forehead  gave  him  the  aspect  of  great  intellectual 
might,  came  to  the  door  as  they  approached,  and  addressed  them 
kindly,  with  extended  hands  :  "  What  cheer,  pilgrims  ?  "  Thus 
kindly  received,  they  entered,  and  were  assigned  cheerful,  roomy 
apartments.  Delighted  with  the  scenery,  they  determined,  if 
they  were  equally  pleased  with  the  society,  to  make  some  stay 
in  this  house. 

The  guests  were  plain,  honest  folks,  for  the  most  part,  who  had 
as  yet  very  little  of  style  and  fashion  among  them.  The  first 
question  put  to  our  pilgrims  was,  "How  did  you  leave  the 


ROGER   WILLIAMS   HOUSE.  161 

city  ?  "  And  when  they  replied  that  they  had  come  through  the 
water  in  preference  to  taking  the  bridges,  they  were  doubly  wel 
come.  Their  host  gave  them  many  private  interviews,  and,  when 
they  expressed  a  wish  to  have  their  rolls  made  out  and  counter 
signed  by  him,  he  said  he  would  submit  their  wishes  to  the  com 
pany  of  guests.  If  they  should  deem  them  worthy  of  such 
indorsement,  he  would  cheerfully  comply  with  their  request. 
That  very  evening  the  guests  all  assembled,  and  our  travellers 
were  called  in.  Many  inquiries  were  made  of  each  of  the  pil 
grims  as  to  their  views  in  setting  out  for  the  Celestial  City,  and 
if  they  were  willing  to  go  by  the  Guide-book ;  to  all  which,  the 
replies  of  our  friends  were  satisfactory.  The  next  day  they  were 
told  the  guests  had  voted  to  grant  them  rolls  of  the  Roger  Wil 
liams  House,  and  would  supply  each  of  them  with  a  pilgrim's 
staff;  and,  too,  they  were  invited  to  the  Lord's  Supper. 

The  services  at  the  Eoger  Williams  House  were  like  religious 
services  at  other  houses ;  and,  when  they  were  ended,  such  of 
those  guests  present  as  belonged  to  their  faith  and  order  were 
invited  to  the  supper  which  would  be  celebrated  on  that  evening. 
Whereupon  the  morning  service  came  to  an  end,  and  the  com 
pany  dispersed. 

Now,  among  the  guests  was  a  party  of  pilgrims  whom  our 
friends  had  met  with  on  the  road,  and  with  whose  company  they 
had  been  greatly  edified.  This  party  consisted  of  William 
Worthy  and  his  wife,  both  young,  and,  like  themselves,  newly 
married,  and  who  had  but  recently  commenced  their  journey  to 
the  Celestial  City.  They  had  taken  their  rolls  and  staffs  at 
Nassau  Hall.  When  the  hour  came  to  go  to  supper,  Annie,  who 
was  sitting  with  them  at  the  time,  asked  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Worthy 
14* 


162  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

if  they  did  not  go  to  the  Lord's  Supper.  She  was  told  they  were 
not  invited  to  the  supper,  though  so  kindly  entertained  as  guests 
at  the  house.  It  was  hard  for  Annie  to  comprehend  what  this 
meant,  for  they  too  were  pilgrims,  and  most  lovely,  pious  pilgrims, 
and  why  should  they  not  also  be  called  to  the  Lord's  table  ?  — 
for  it  belonged  to  the  Lord  only  to  invite  the  guests,  and  his  in 
vitation  was  exceeding  broad :  "  Whosoever  will,  let  him  come 
and  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely  ;"  but  they  could  not  be  per 
suaded,  and  when  Oliver,  Frank,  and  Gertrude  came  for  Annie, 
she  reluctantly  left  them  behind.  This  solemn  service  was  made 
deeply  impressive  by  receiving  from  the  host,  in  the  presence  of 
his  guests,  before  the  supper,  their  rolls  and  pilgrim's  staffs. 
And  of  these  we  may  as  well  now  speak. 

Of  the  rolls  presented  at  the  Tremont,  Oxford,  and  d'ltalia 
Interpreter's  Houses,  we  have  before  spoken.  Those  presented  at 
all  other  houses  on  the  road  were  similar  in  form  and  expression 
to  those  we  have  now  to  describe.  They  were  engrossed  on  stiff 
parchment,  setting  forth  the  names  of  each  pilgrim,  and  their 
several  professions,  as  made  by  each  one.  These  were  counter 
signed  by  the  several  Interpreters.  So  much  for  the  rolls.  The 
staffs  were  somewhat  different  from  each  other,  for  every  Inter 
preter's  House  supplied  a  staff,  having  its  own  peculiar  twist,  and 
knots,  and  points ;  so  that  it  was  not  less  a  weapon  of  offence  than 
of  defence  ;  and,  then,  these  staffs  were  the  badge  of  the  party  to 
which  the  pilgrim  belonged.  Young  pilgrims  had  a  vicious  habit 
of  using  them  upon  other  young  pilgrims,  as  it  would  seem,  for 
no  other  object  than  to  gain  a  facility  in  the  use  of  them.  The 
trick  to  be  acquired  was  to  bring  the  knots  or  points  in  contact 
"with  the  cranium  of  an  opponent ;  and,  when  a  hit  was  made,  the 


THE  PILGRIM'S  STAFF.  163 

eyes  of  the  party  hit  flashed  fire,  showing  the  force  of  the  blow, 
and  the  keenness  with  which  it  was  felt.  But  we  will  say  here, 
our  pilgrims  observed,  as  they  drew  near  the  end  of  their  journey, 
that  this  pugnacity  was  rare,  very  rare.  The  points  once  so 
sharp  and  prized,  and  the  knots  so  hard  and  grievous  to  their 
opponents,  were  all  worn  or  filed  off,  a.nd  nothing  but  the  original 
twist  remained  unchanged. 

We  will  here  state  a  fact  which  greatly  puzzled  our  party 
at  the  outset  of  their  journey,  and  that  was,  the  tendency  of 
parties  of  the  same  house,  or  rather  of  rival  houses,  as  Nassau 
Hall  and  the  New  Hotel  parties,  for  example,  to  quarrel ;  and, 
also,  the  Oxford  and  the  Lower  House  people.  These  rarely 
passed  without  poking  at  each  other  with  the  ends  of  their  staffs ; 
and,  when  they  could  find  time  to  do  so,  they  would  have  a  "  set- 
to"  which  would  last  for  an  hour  or  two.  But  Oliver  made  a 
discovery  at  last,  and  it  was  this, —  that  it  was  the  nature  of 
pilgrims  to  quarrel  most  with  those  they  resembled  most ;  that  is 
to  say,  persons  wearing  the  same  badge,  and  wielding  staffs  of 
the  same  twist,  were  most  pugnacious  with  each  other,  and  were 
the  least  ready  to  let  the  other  off  with  the  slightest  diversity  of 
opinion  or  mode  of  travel. 

After  the  supper  was  ended,  and  they  had  retired  to  their 
several  rooms  for  the  night,  Annie  said  to  Oliver :  "  Now,  like  a 
good  wife  as  I  am,  Oliver,  I  want  to  ask  my  husband  whether 
he  thinks  this  way  of  excluding  guests  from  the  supper-table  is 
right,  because  they  took  their  rolls  from  a  different  house,  or 
their  staffs  have  n't  the  same  twist,  or  they  did  n't  ford  the  river. 
Do  you  think  it  Christlike?  Is  this  the  end  for  which  the  Mas- 


164  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

ter  instituted  the  supper  in  remembrance  of  his  love  ?  and  is  this 
the  answer  to  his  prayer,  '  that  they  all  may  be  one '  ?  " 

"  0,  it  must  be  right !  "  said  Oliver. 

"  And  why  must  it  be  right  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  Because  it  is  the  opinion  of  all  ages,  and  of  all  Interpreters. 
They  regard  unity  of  sentiment  and  practice  as  prerequisites,  and, 
unless  there  is  all  due  conformity,  there  cannot  be  a  perfect  com 
munion  :  that 's  why  it  is  right  to  do  as  we  do,  and  as  all  do." 

"  Then  everybody  is  wrong,"  said  Annie,  with  great  positive- 
ness. 

"  My  dear  wife,"  replied  Oliver,  somewhat  at  a  loss  how  to 
reply,  "  suppose  you  ask  the  Interpreter  ?  " 

Some  days  elapsed  before  Annie  could  get  the  courage  to 
speak  her  mind  to  the  Interpreter ;  for,  although  he  was  amiable 
and  very  courteous,  in  his  eye  there  was  a  lurking  love  of  humor, 
and  his  high  forehead  was  so  full  of  great  ponderous  thoughts 
that  she  became  timid,  and  dared  not  ask  a  question  which  she 
plainly  saw  was  throwing  down  a  gage  of  quarrel.  But  a  time 
came  when  the  Interpreter  had  held  a  delightful  conversation 
with  Annie  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  she  ventured  upon  stating 
her  case  of  conscience.  He  listened  with  a  pleased  and  amused 
smile,  at  first ;  this  gradually  gave  place  to  serious  attention  to  all 
she  had  to  say,  with  utmost  patience ;  and,  in  answer,  he  said  : 
"  My  young  friend,  you  remind  me  of  the  saying  of  a  royal  as 
tronomer,  who  not  only  discovered  some  spots  on  the  sun,  but 
perturbations  of  the  planets,  which  he  thought  must  result  in  the 
ruin  of  the  celestial  system,  and  he  said,  *  If  I  had  been  at  hand 
when  the  Almighty  created  the  universe,  I  could  have  made 


THE  PILGRIMS  SET   OUT  AGAIN.  165 

him  some  important  suggestions,  for  the  improvement  of  the 
universe  as  it  now  is.'  "  * 

Annie  was  silenced,  but  not  satisfied ;  and  when  she  told  all 
this  to  Frank,  Gertrude,  and  Oliver,  Frank  said :  "  Certainly, 
neither  God's  laws  nor  Christ's  ordinances  were  made  to  meet 
our  tastes.  They  took  their  rise  in  his  perfect  will.  And,  if 
our  Lord  had  made  it  a  first  duty  to  cut  off  our  right  hands  in 
token  of  our  fealty  on  setting  out  on  our  pilgrimage,  it  would  be 
a  poor  compliance  with  his  command  to  pare  our  finger-nails, 
and  say,  it  is  so  much  more  convenient,  and  it  means  the  same 
thing." 

Having  received  the  benediction  of  the  Interpreter,  they  set 
out,  in  company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Worthy ;  and,  as  they  went 
forward,  overtook  a  very  large  company  of  pilgrims  from  differ 
ent  houses,  on  their  way  to  the  Celestial  City.  They  were  now 
not  far  from  Vanity  Fair,  and  expected  to  see  it  from  every 
height  they  ascended.  They  came  to  a  wood  of  some  extent,  and, 
under  the  shade  of  trees,  they  sat  down  to  rest,  for  it  was  near 
mid-day.  They  had  wallets  well  supplied,  and  a  spring  of  purest 
crystal  out  of  a  great  rock  gave  them  clear  cold  water. 

An  old  man  joined  their  party,  and  expressed  his  delight  to 
see  the  fraternal  sympathies  so  uniformly  manifested  on  all  sides, 
though  there  was  so  great  diversity  of  opinions  among  the  pil 
grims  present.  "It  is  very  different  in  our  time  from  what  it 
was  about  two  centuries  since,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  venerable  sir,"  said  Annie, 
in  reply.  "  May  I  ask,  how  was  it  in  the  times  you  speak  of?  " 

"  0,  it  was  altogether  different.     Instead  of  travelling  along 

*  Alphousus  IX.,  King  of  Spain. 


166  %  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

as  we  do  now,  with  a  tap  on  the  head  from  the  staff,  or  a  poke 
into  the  ribs,  which,  after  all,  does  not  do  much  harm,  they  were 
wont  to  burn  each  other  at  the  stake,  as  you  remember  was  tho 
fate  of  poor  Faithful,  the  pilgrim,  in  Bunyan's  day." 

"  0  yes,  I  remember  Faithful  was  burned  up  by  the  people  at 
Vanity  Fair.  Do  they  burn  pilgrims  now-a-days  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  the  pilgrim ;  "  nothing  can  be  more 
amiable  than  the  way  they  are  now  treated  by  the  citizens  of 
that  famous  place.  Everything  has  changed  since  that  day, 
though  there  are  some  who  think  the  old  way,  all  things  consid 
ered,  safer  of  the  two." 

"  What,  to  burn  folks  at  the  stake? "  cried  Gertrude. 

The  old  pilgrim  replied :  "  That  process  was  not  at  all  pleasant, 
but  it  was  at  least  safe,  and  productive  of  great  good;  and, 
though  one  set  of  pilgrims  burned  up  one  of  another  set,  whose 
staff  had  a  different  twist,  yet  it  didn't  change  the  character  of 
those  who  burned,  nor  of  him  who  was  burnt ;  as,  when  one 
sheep  kills  another  sheep,  both  remain  alike  sheep,  only  one  is 
dead  and  the  other  is  alive." 

"  Horrible !  "  exclaimed  Gertrude ;  "  you  seem  to  be  an  apolo 
gist  for  persecution  for  opinion's  sake." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  old  pilgrim ;  "  but  I  believe  the 
Lord  of  the  Way  may  deem  it  best  to  let  slip  the  blood-hounds 
of  persecution,  whenever  pilgrims  cease  to  be  pilgrims  indeed ; 
and  the  good  resulting  from  it  is  this,  that,  instead  of  Ipitering 
along  the  road,  stopping  at  every  city  and  pleasant  watering- 
place,  as  is  now  the  custom,  they  would  be  more  alert,  and  more 
ready  to  press  onward  to  the  Celestial  City." 

After  they  had  ended  their  refreshment,  they  all  proceeded 


THE  CITY   OF  VANITY   FAIR.  16 T 

together  up  a  long  ascent,  which  brought  them  in  sight  of  the 
great  city  of  Vanity  Fair,  —  at  the  sight  of  which  there  was  a 
great  rejoicing  among  the  pilgrims  of  the  various  parties,  all  of 
whom  were  delighted  to  be  so  near  this  great  thoroughfare  on 
the  way  to  the  Celestial  City. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

OUR    PILGRIMS   REACH   THE    CITY    OF    VANITY   FAIR. 

WHEN  they  came  in  sight  of  this  city,  they  were  greatly 
impressed  with  its  vast  extent.  It  lay  along  a  wide  plain,  and 
innumerable  spires  and  domes  were  glittering  in  the  sunshine. 
On  the  north  they  saw  beautiful  elevations  rising  one  above 
another  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  known  at  Vanity  Fair  as 
the  Delectable  Mountains.  These  were  covered  with  forests 
and  pastures.  On  the  south  lay  the  beautiful  "  Looking-glass 
Lake,"  gemmed  with  a  thousand  islands ;  and  on  the  west,  far 
off  on  the  horizon,  were  seen  granite  peaks  shooting  up  into  the 
sky  out  of  fields  of  everlasting  snow.  It  was,  indeed,  a  lovely 
site  for  a  city,  and  the  view  of  it  was  one  of  surpassing  beauty. 

While  this  party  of  pilgrims,  amounting  in  all  to  six  or  seven 
hundred,  were  gazing  with  delight  upon  the  City  of  the  Plain, 
as  it  was  called  in  other  days,  Mr.  Evangel,  a  vigorous  old  man, 
who  had  been  stationed  at  this  point  by  order  of  the  Lord  of  the 
Celestial  City,  ascended  a  rude  pulpit  by  the  roadside,  and,  in  a 


168  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

trumpet-toned  voice,  exhorted  the  pilgrims  to  pause.  He  pic 
tured  to  them,  in  bold  language,  the  danger  of  going  through 
Vanity  Fair  as  more  fatal  than  the  fires  of  Smithfield.  He 
pointed  them  to  a  shady  path  leading  into  a  valley,  which  he 
said  "  would  take  them  safely  round  the  city.  It  was  rough, 
but  then  it  was  safe."  Here  he  was  rudely  interrupted  by  a 
number  of  men,  employed  as  runners  of  the  various  hotels,  who 
offered  cards  to  the  pilgrims,  saying  their  house  was  the  best  in 
the  city,  and  that  their  omnibus  was  waiting  to  take  them  into 
the  city,  free  of  charge.  And  these  omnibuses,  in  great  numbers, 
stood  at  a  little  distance,  all  ready  for  reception  of  passengers, 
covered  all  over  with  placards,  which  read :  "  Positively  the 
last  night.  Bowery  Theatre.  London  Assurance.  Lady  Gay 
Spanker,  Miss  Dean."  Another :  "  Broadway  Theatre.  Madame 
Celestine  will  appear  in  a  new  ballet  this  evening."  "  Opera 
House.  *  Les  Huguenots'  for  the  last  time."  And,  strange 
to  say,  these  placards  seemed  to  have  great  attraction  to  many 
pilgrims.  Mr.  Evangel  was  heard  above  all  the  clamor  of  run 
ners  and  omnibus-men,  praying  them  not  to  go  into  the  city  of 
Vanity  Fair. 

There  were  a  good  many  who  went  at  once  into  the  several 
omnibuses,  but  many  lingered,  listening  to  Mr.  Evangel.  Mrs. 
Worthy  said  to  her  husband  :  "  Let  us  go  down  into  the  valley ; 
the  darker  the  road,  the  closer  I  shall  cling  to  you ;  and  no  path 
can  be  dark  which  is  shared  with  you."  Others  said :  "  No 
cross !  no  crown !  "  and  so  it  was,  the  valley  was  taken  by  many. 
Miss  Judith  Oldfield,  who  had  joined  herself  to  our  pilgrims, 
and  whom  they  met  at  the  Oxford  House,  and  again  at  the 
Lower  House,  said :  "  She  thought  it  was  cowardly  to  take  the 


THEY    GO   TO    VANITY    FAIR.  169 

valley  road.  She  had  set  out  with  a  fixed  determination  to 
resist  the  devil  and  all  his  works,  and  she  wanted  nothing  more 
than  to  meet  him  face  to  face.  She  said  it  was  the  duty  of  pil 
grims  to  bear  their  testimony  to  the  world ;  they  had  a  right  to 
expect  trials,  and  she  was  willing  to  take  her  share  of  'em." 
Now,  Miss  Judith  was  of  the  class  known  as  fashionable  folks, 
and  she  had  been  very  pretty,  and  as  yet  had  seen  no  one  who 
met  all  the  demands  of  a  lady  of  her  rank,  family,  and  preten 
sions.  The  city  of  Vanity  Fair  to  her  was  a  place  to  be 
desired  rather  than  avoided.  But  poor  pilgrims,  for  the  most 
part,  took  the  Dark  Valley  road,  and  those  married  far  more 
frequently  made  this  election  than  those  unmarried. 

While  our  party  were  standing,  making  these  observations, 
and  while  yet  the  omnibuses  were  waiting  for  more  passengers, 
a  servant,  in  rich  livery,  came  running  about,  asking  for  Mr. 
Trueman  or  Mr.  Outright,  when  one  of  the  pilgrims  pointed 
them  out  to  him.  The  man  in  livery  came  with  low  bows,  and 
delivered  to  them  a  note,  which  read  thus : 

**  1  Liberty  Square. 

"  Lord  and  Lady  Dielincoeur,  with  their  compliments  to  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Trueman  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Outright,  send  their  car 
riage,  and  anxiously  expect  the  pleasure  of  their  company  to 
dine  with  them." 

This  was  entirely  unexpected,  and  they  at  once  attributed  it 
to  Count  de  Ville.  After  a  little  hesitation,  they  thought  it 
was  due  to  the  count  and  to  his  friends  to  accept  their  cour 
tesy,  and  to  deliver  the  pacquet  they  had  till  now  forgotten  ; 
and,  indeed,  now  they  had  an  excuse  for  it,  they  did  not  care  if 
15 


170  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

they  spent  a  few  days  at  this  place.  The  man  threiv  down 
his  steps,  and  opened  the  door  of  the  coach  with  great  parade  of 
manner,  and,  as  soon  as  they  were  seated,  he  ascended  the  bos 
alongside  the  coachman,  and  away  they  went  at  a  rapid  rate 
into  the  renowned  city  of  Vanity  Fair. 

This  is  a  city  of  great  extent ;  the  long  lines  of  noble  mansions, 
the  broad  avenues  and  verdant  squares,  seemed  to  our  pilgrims 
interminable,  and  the  rush  of  life  manifested  in  the  crowded 
streets,  and  the  careering  of  splendid  equipages,  became  at 
last  oppressive,  and  they  grew  weary  with  the  effort  to  notice 
all  that  was  noticeable.  At  one  moment  it  was  a  noble  church, 
then  a  park  surrounded  with  spacious  houses,  then  some  great 
edifice,  the  object  of  which  they  could  not  guess  at;  next,  some 
palace  of  a  hotel,  exhaustive  of  art  and  costliness  ;  until  it  was 
a  positive  relief  to  them  when  the  carriage  drew  up  before  a 
noble  mansion,  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  avenues  they 
had  traversed. 

At  the  instant,  they  felt  a  little  embarrassment  at  being 
ushered,  with  so  little  preparation,  into  a  stranger's  house ;  but 
there  was  no  time  for  this  feeling  to  be  expressed,  for,  as  the 
door  of  the  carriage  opened,  the  door  of  the  house  opened, 
and  nothing  remained  but  to  enter. 

The  hall  greatly  resembled  their  own  loved  home  in  Babylon, 
and  the  saloons  were  filled  with  all  the  elegances  of  taste  and 
art.  It  was  a  splendid  suite  of  apartments  opening  into  each 
other,  covering  all  the  first  floor  not  occupied  by  the  hall  and 
staircase.  They  were  not  left  long  to  gaze  around,  or  to  ex 
change  any  words,  when  a  lady,  elegantly  dressed  in  morning 
costume,  came  into  the  saloon,  and,  with  an  air  of  graceful 


LADY  DIELINCCEUE.  171 

diffidence,  advanced  toward  Annie  and  Gertrude,  bowing  to 
Frank  and  Oliver,  and,  taking  Gertrude's  hand,  kissed  her,  and 
in  like  manner  welcomed  Annie,  saying :  "I  am  most  happy  to 
welcome  to  our  home  the  guests  of  our  venerated  and  dear 
friend,  Count  de  Ville.  My  husband  was  accidentally  advised 
that  you  would  be  in  town  to-day,  and  we  sent  our  carriage  to 
meet  you ;  and  now  our  wishes  are  gratified,  and  you  are  here, 
our  most  welcome  guests."  To  all  which  they  bowed  their 
thanks ;  and,  before  words  coulcf  come,  Lady  Dielincoeur,  placing 
her  arm  affectionately  around  Gertrude's  waist,  "  Will  you  fol 
low  me  ? "  said  she  to  our  friends ;  and,  leading  them  up  the 
staircase,  she  ushered  them  into  noble  apartments,  supplied  with 
every  conceivable  luxury  and  comfort,  and  recommended  them 
to  take  a  siesta,  or,  if  they  pleased,  a  bath,  before  the  hour  of 
dinner,  which  was  at  six  o'clock.  She  begged  them  to  excuse 
her,  saying  she  would  immediately  send  refreshments  into  their 
rooms.  And,  while  our  guests  were  comparing  notes,  servants 
with  ice-water,  wine-coolers  with  wine,  cakes,  sandwiches,  and 
every  luxury  of  the  season  were  brought  up ;  and  they  found  it 
very  charming,  after  their  long  walk  and  ride,  to  make  a 
hearty  lunch,  which  they  did  with  great  contentment  of  mind 
and  refreshment  of  body. 


172  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER    XXXY. 

OF    LORD   AND    LADY    DIELINC(EUR   AND    THEIR    FRIENDS. COLONEL 

AND  MRS.  PROUDFIT. LORD  SHALLBESO  AND  BISHOP  HIGHANDRY. 

BEFORE  we  assemble  our  party,  we  think  it  best  to  give  our 
readers  some  information  in  regard  to  the  persons  with  whom 
they  are  to  be  made  acquainted. 

My  Lord  Dielincoeur  was  of  a  very  ancient  family,  which 
traced  its  pedigree  back  to  the  Conquest.  He  and  his  friend,  Lord 
Shallbeso,  had  been  attainted  of  treason  to  the  crown,  and  forfeited 
their  estates,  though  they  retained  their  titles,  for  they  still  be 
lieved  they  should  recover  their  high  position,  by  some  happy 
change  in  affairs.  These  gentlemen  were  recognized  by  all  trav 
ellers  and  others  as  men  of  high  birth,  and  as  holding  intimate 
relationship  to  the  best  blood  and  nobility  of  their  native  land. 
Lord  D.  was  now  in  the  meridian  of  life,  tall,  well-made,  of  grace 
ful  manners,  with  a  voice  naturally  harsh  and  imperious,  but 
trained  with  great  care,  and,  when  modulated  to  its  lowest  tones, 
soft  and  winning.  He  looked  as  if  by  nature  he  was  haughty 
and  irascible ;  but  it  was  only  in  his  look,  for  his  manners  were 
always  courteous,  and  there  was  a  calmness  which  wore  an  air  of 
discipline  in  all  he  said  and  did.  This  kept  a  sensitive  soul  like 
Gertrude's  in  dread  of  offending  him,  and  something  of  this  was 
to  be  seen  in  the  deportment  of  his  lady  when  in  his  presence. 

Lady  Dieofarose  Dielincoeur,  in  like  manner  as  her  lord, 
was  of  the  first  families.  She  traced  her  pedigree  back  to  Lady 
Lustintheflesh,  whose  descendants  were  very  numerous,  though 


THE  RIGHT   KEV.    BISHOP  HIGHANDRY.  173 

the  family  title  had  long  since  become  extinct.  Lady  Di.,  as  she 
was  called,  was  eminently  prepossessing,  and,  though  now  full 
thirty  years  of  age,  there  was  about  her  an  air  of  extreme  refine 
ment  and  timidity  that  made  her  very  winning.  Her  hair  was 
golden  and  rich,  her  skin  the  purest  white  and  red,  and  eyes  blue, 
full,  and  speaking ;  but  you  rarely  saw  them  looking  you  full  in 
the  face,  from  a  habit  of  hers  to  withdraw  her  gaze  the  instant 
she  caught  the  eye  of  the  person  addressing  her.  All  this  wore 
an  air  of  modesty  and  coquetry  so  sweetly  combined  that  few 
could  resist  the  fascination  to  provoke  another  and  another  mani 
festation  of  this  seductive  grace.  Her  voice  was  soft,  rarely  gay, 
but  yet  so  clear  in  its  enunciation  of  words  that  not  a  single 
syllable  was  lost  by  the  person  addressed. 

And  now  we  will  speak  of  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop  High- 
andry,  the  diocesan  of  Vanity  Fair.  (We  have  accented  this 
word,  for  it  was  regarded  as  low  church  to  accent  the  third  syl 
lable.)  The  bishop  was  a  man  of  sixty,  whose  complexion  and 
form  were  all  a  bishop's  should  be.  His  demeanor  bespoke  his 
rank ;  and  next  to  his  zeal  for  the  church  was  his  devotion  to 
ladies,  among  whom  Lady  Di.  held  so  high  a  rank  that  the  up 
town  city  gossips  hinted  that  he  was  the  rival  of  Lord  Shallbeso  in 
admiration  of  her.  Nothing  could  be  more  false.  Both  Lord  and 
Lady  Dielincoour  held  the  bishop  in  the  highest  estimation,  and 
received  him  always  with  most  distinguishing  courtesy. 

And,  as  for  this  rival  of  the  bishop,  as  the  gossips  were  pleased 
to  call  him,  Lord  Shallbeso,  he  was  of  an  old  family,  a  man  of 
sixty,  an  old  bachelor,  living  in  an  old  mansion,  which  was  called 
by  some  folks  "  The  Old  Curiosity-Shop,"  where  he  had  a  remark 
able  collection  of  pictures,  and  all  manner  of  contrivances  of  his 
15* 


174  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

own  devising.  He  was  a  very  imperious  person,  and  wore  a 
scratch  wig,  which  rarely  was  in  its  proper  place.  He  took  it 
into  his  head,  just  now,  to  think  himself  in  love  with  Lady  Di. ! 
but,  in  fact,  he  was  incapable  of  loving  any  one,  and  had  a  skill 
of  teasing  every  pretty  lady  he  took  a  fancy  to,  by  his  attentions. 
And  now  we  have  only  to  introduce  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Proudfit, 
before  the  ringing  of  a  small  bell  at  the  chamber-doors  of  our 
friends  brought  them  down  into  the  parlor,  where  these  guests 
were  already  assembled,  waiting  their  coming. 

Colonel  Stanhope  Proudfit  and  Mrs.  Gay  Proudfit  were  own 
cousins,  and  traced  their  pedigree  (for  this  was  coming  to  be  the 
fashion  at  this  time)  step  by  step  to  the  ancient,  well-endowed, 
and  very  noted  families  of  Lustoftheeye  and  Prideoflife,  on 
their  paternal  and  maternal  side,  —  a  family  whose  descendants, 
in  various  degrees  of  affinity,  fill  the  land.  The  colonel  was  a 
man  of  thirty-five,  and  wore  an  air  of  high  fashion.  His  profile 
was  faultless,  his  mustache  and  whiskers  the  perfection  of  art  and 
severest  taste.  His  dress  was  fashionable,  without  the  air  of 
being  made  by  a  fashionable  tailor.  It  was  not  the  clothes  that 
made  his  dress  the  fashion,  but  his  wearing  them.  He  was  affable 
to  his  equals,  but  apt  to  be  rude  to  those  he  regarded  his  inferi 
ors.  He  prided  himself  on  his  equipages,  his  riding-horse,  and 
his  dogs.  These  seemed  his  idols ;  but,  as  for  his  lovely  lady,  it 
would  have  perplexed  the  shrewdest  observer  to  say  what  were  the 
relations  subsisting  between  them.  His  morals  were  said  to  be  a 
little  damaged  by  his  foreign  tour ;  and  his  familiar  acquaintance 
with  opera-singers  and  ballet-dancers  had  not  helped  him  much 
since  his  return.  He  was  gifted,  and  ladies  were  wont  to  consider 
him  "  a  dangerous  man ;  "  but  then  they  never  were  known  to 


MRS.    GAY   PROUDFIT.  175 

forbid  him  access  to  their  homes ;  for  ladies  who  are  greatly 
admired  by  such  men  can  forgive  much  to  those  of  whom  they  are 
pleased  to  say,  "  And  e'en  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side  :  " 
as  a  very  pretty  lady  said  to  Frank,  one  day,  when  speaking  of 
the  colonel. 

And  now  for  Mrs.  Proudfit.  She  was  not  yet  twenty-five,  had 
been  married  seven  years,  and  lived  all  this  while  in  the  very 
centre  of  the  whirlpool  of  fashionable  life.  She  was  beautiful, 
and  she  knew  it ;  and  she  expected  every  one  to  acknowledge  it, 
at  least  by  their  looks.  Her  eye  was  black  and  piercing ;  it 
demanded  submission,  and  rarely  made  a  demand  that  was  not 
conceded.  Her  tones  were  imperious ;  and.  everybody  saw  at  once 
she  was  a  spoiled  child  of  fortune,  fashion,  and  beauty.  Her 
bearing  towards  her  husband  was  capricious.  At  one  time  she 
would  show  her  anger  at  his  want  of  attention  to  her,  and  at 
another,  if  he  addressed  her,  she  would  turn  upon  her  heel,  and 
show  the  most  marked  contempt  for  him.  And  yet,  they  lived 
together,  usually  visited  the  same  places  in  the  same  carriage,  and 
returned  home  together.  But,  from  the  moment  of  her  pre 
sentation  to  the  host  and  hostess  to  the  moment  of  departure, 
Mrs.  Proudfit  ignored  his  existence,  though  speaking  to  the  very 
lady  whose  hand  rested  on  her  husband's  arm.  And  she  did  all 
this  with  an  air  which  was  unapproachably  fine,  in  the  estimation 
of  women  who  longed  to  be  fashionable,  if  they  only  knew  how, 
but  who  could  not  carry  it  out  with  a  grand  air,  and  with  such  a 
presence.  Ah !  there  was  but  one  Mrs.  Proudfit,  though  there 
were  many  ladies  who  were  her  humble  imitators  in  a  very  small 
way,  chiefly  in  the  walks  of  private  life. 

These  were  the  guests  to  whom  Lady  Dielineoeur  introduced 


176  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

our  pilgrims,  having  previously  presented  them  to  her  lord  in  the 
hall.  Lord  Dielincoeur  led  into  the  dinner-saloon  Annie ;  Oliver 
led  in  Lady  Dielincreur.  The  bishop  had  the  left  arm  of  Lady 
D.  Old  Shallbeso  walked  in  with  Gertrude,  who  had  also 
Colonel  Proudfit  for  a  second  attendant ;  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  who 
seemed  to  linger  last  of  all,  finally  accepted  Frank's  hand  without 
even  looking  at  him,  and,  in  a  bad  humor  at  something,  she  tossed 
her  head  and  walked  to  her  seat  at  the  table,  which  chanced  to 
be  between  old  Shallbeso  and  Frank. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

DINNER-PARTY   AT    LORD   DIELINC(EUR'g. 

THE  topics  during  the  courses  were  brief,  pleasant,  and  witty 
sayings.  Nothing  like  conversation  was  attempted  till  the  dessert 
was  fairly  on  the  table,  and  the  wines,  having  been  tasted,  were  dis 
cussed.  In  this  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop  spoke  with  the  science 
of  a  man  who  knew  what  he  drank ;  which  can  be  said  of  but  few 
of  the  many  who  drink  wines  now-a-days.  Oliver  ventured  to 
say  that  the  amount  of  adulteration  was  very  little  suspected,  and 
few  of  the  liquors  now  on  sale  could  be  relied  upon. 

"  No  doubt,  sir,  you  are  very  right,"  said  old  Shallbeso. 
"  You  know  old  Jeffries  ?  A  far  better  judge  of  horses  than 
of  law,  I  fancy,"  continued  the  lord,  speaking  to  Colonel  Proud- 
fit.  "  Well,  he  bought  fifty  dozen  or  more  of  the  best  brandy 


DINNER  AT  LOED   DIELINCCEUR'S.  177 

from  one  of  the  best  houses  in  this  city,  for  his  own  use,  and  he 
soon  found  something  out  of  sorts  with  his  head.  Chancing  to 
hear  of  an  old  man,  like  himself,  killed  by  drinking  brandy  with 
sugar  of  lead  or  something  of  the  sort  in  it,  he  sent  one  of  his 
bottles  of  brandy  to  a  chemist,  and,  sure  enough,  he  reported 
there  was  an  appreciable  amount  of  strychnine  in  it ! " 

"  Did  you  make  any  stay  at  the  Interpreter's  House  ?  "  asked 
Lady  Di.  of  Oliver,  wishing  to  change  the  topic. 

"  There  are  several,  my  lady :  to  which  do  you  refer  ?  "  asked 
Oliver. 

"  I  spoke  of  the  Oxford,  the  only  recognized  Interpreter,"  said 
Lady  Di.,  looking  at  the  bishop,  who  caught  the  glance  and  bowed 
very  low. 

"  We  remained  there  about  a  fortnight,"  said  Oliver. 

"  And  who  did  you  see  there  ?  and  what  do  you  think  of  the 
house  ?  "  asked  old  Shallbeso. 

"  It  is  a  very  respectable  house,"  said  Oliver,  "  and  the  com 
pany  are  all  remarkably  well-dressed  people,  though  I  think  the 
house  rather  old-fashioned,  sir."  At  this,  Mrs.  Proudfit  put  up 
her  lip  and  slightly  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders ;  and  they  were 
shoulders  which  she  might  be  proud  of,  and  such  as  bore  exposure 
sweetly,  for  the  slight  Honiton-lace  handkerchief  she  wore  could 
hardly  have  been  called  a  covering  anywhere  but  in  paradise. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  old  Shallbeso,  in  a  kindly  tone,  "  do  you 
not  know  that  nothing  goes  down  now  with  the  clergy  but  what  is 
antique?" — and,  bowing  to  Mrs.  Proudfit,  —  "the  ladies  ex- 
cepted." 

This  lady  drew  herself  up,  and,  with  an  air  of  nonchalance, 
filled  her  wineglass  with  nutshells,  hummed  an  air,  and  kept  time 


178  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

by  ringing  a  goblet  with  the  handle  of  her  nut-pick,  and  in  various 
ingenious  ways,  with  a  grace  peculiar  to  a  spoiled  and  pretty  lady, 
showed  the  company  she  was  dying  of  ennui.  Now,  no  one  seemed 
to  care  for  all  this  but  my  Lord  Shallbeso ;  and  he  managed,  by 
furtive  glances  and  a  play  of  his  features,  to  fix  the  attention  of 
our  pilgrims  upon  this  lady.  Her  husband  became  embarrassed, 
and  could  not  talk  to  Gertrude  without  glancing  at  his  wife. 
Lord  D.  and  his  lady  sought  to  win  the  attention  of  our  party, 
but,  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts,  they  all  listened  and  replied  with 
a  divided  attention,  watching  the  conduct  of  the  pretty  lady  and 
old  Lord  Shallbeso.  They  had  often  seen  (and  who  has  not  ?) 
similar  exhibitions  of  pretty,  spoiled  women,  who  care  not  to  con 
ceal  their  vexation  when  their  wishes  are  disappointed  or  their 
self-love  crossed.^ 

"Were  there  no  notables  among  them?"  asked  my  Lord  D. 
of  Annie. 

"  0  yes  !  "  replied  Annie,  "  there  were,  you  remember,  Frank, 
the  Lord  Bishop  of  Inpinetaris,  and  his  penitentiary,  —  I  think 
that  was  his  title." 

This  recalled  old  Shallbeso's  attention,  and,  forgetting  Mrs. 
Proudfit  and  her  prettiness,  he  addressed  the  bishop  in  a  brusque 
tone,  as  if  he  meant  to  irritate  him.  "  I  learn,  bishop,  that  my 

*  Count  Grammont  tells  us  of  the  piquant  ways  of  pretty  ladies  in  his 
day.  Miss  Jennings,  one  of  the  maids  of  honor  to  the  Duchess  of  York, 
was  compelled  to  go  on  a  tour  with  her,  leaving  her  last  new  lover,  Jermyn, 
sick  of  a  fever  in  London.  He  says  :  "  The  court,  without  paying  any 
attention  to  the  uneasiness  Jennings  might  feel,  set  out  without  Jermyn. 
She  had,  however,  the  gratification  to  testify  her  ill-humor  throughout  the 
whole  journey,  by  appearing  displeased  with  everything  which  afforded 
satisfaction  to  all  the  rest  of  the  company."— Memoirs :  London  Ed.,  p.  278. 


LORD    SHALLBESO   ATTACKS   THE   BISHOP.  179 

lord  of  Inpinetaris  has  been  seen  passing  in  and  out  of  d'ltalia 
over  the  wire-drawn  bridge  you  wot  of,  very  frequently,  of  late, 
between  daylight  and  dark,  —  both  he  and  his  penitentiary.  He 
with  a  penitentiary  !  "  cried  my  lord,  with  a  chuckling  laugh.  "  I 
understand,  in  the  opinion  of  his  own  friends,  he  is  at  this  instant  a 
suitable  candidate  for  a  lunatic  asylum  ;  and  yet  he  seems  to  prefer 
a  penitentiary  !  "  And  again  the  old  lord  laughed  at  his  own  wit. 

"  My  Lord  Shallbeso,"  said  the  bishop,  flushed  with  anger, 
"  every  sneer  of  yours  against  the  church  and  its  clergy  can  but 
excite  my  scorn  and  contempt." 

The  old  lord  roused  himself  like  a  lion  enraged.  "  My  Lady 
Di.,"  said  he,  bowing  to  my  lady,  who  sat  with  graceful  serenity, 
which  was  beautiful  to  behold,  "  there  is  no  man  who  holds  in 
higher  respect  than  myself  the  ministers  of  religion.  I  speak, 
my  lady,  of  those  pious  and  brave  men  who,  having  signed  a 
confession  of  faith,  or  articles  of  religion,  to  be  by  them  defended, 
dare  do  it,  at  every  sacrifice.  They  are  honest  and  brave,  and 
to  be  respected  as  such,  whatever  we  may  think  of  them  as 
logicians  or  as  wise  men.  But  I  hate  Iscariots,  who  will  neither 
hang  themselves  nor  suffer  themselves  to  be  hung." 

Now,  nothing  could  be  more  rude  on  the  part  of  Lord  Shall 
beso  than  this ;  and  all  felt  it  to  be  so.  None  were  more  grieved 
than  our  pilgrims,  for  they  were  very  verdant,  and  all  this  was 
new  to  them.  As  yet,  they  did  not  know  that  if  there  are  pretty 
women  in  society  who  are  lawless,  so,  too,  there  are  men  whose 
position  o^wealth  suffer  them  to  be  outlaws  against  all  the  con 
ventionalities  of  social  life. 

To  save  the  company  from  more  of  this,  Lady  Di.  rose  and 
gave  her  hand  to  the  bishop,  leading  the  way  to  the  saloon ;  and, 


180  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

when  they  were  all  seated,  she  took  the  bishop  out  upon  the 
porch,  which  opened  into  the  garden,  for  a  few  moments,  who 
returned  with  a  pleased  countenance,  and  took  leave  of  the  com 
pany  with  many  courtesies. 

The  old  lord,  seeing  the  bishop  gone,  turned  to  Mrs.  PrOudfit, 
who  sat  silent  and  drawn  up  into  herself,  as  if  she  did  not  care 
a  pin  for  a  single  person  in  the  room.  And,  if  the  rest  of 
the  party  were  very  happily  seated,  and  at  their  ease  in  this 
beautiful  parlor,  after  a  most  admirable  dinner,  served  up  in 
the  best  manner,  without  a  mistake,  or  a  single  spot  on  a  lady's 
dress,  this  fair  lady  was  not  at  ease. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Proudfit,  that  I  can  guess  what  has 
annoyed  you  to-day?  "  the  old  lord,  leaning  over  Annie,  whispered, 
so  loud  that  she  and  all  could  hear,  and  doubtless  did  hear,  every 
word. 

"  I  am  not  annoyed,  Lord  Shallbeso,  but  by  your  impertinence 
in  asking  me  this  question,"  said  the  lady,  sharply. 

"  Softly,  my  lady,  softly ;  I  do  not  permit  even  you  to  say 
some  things.  Remember,  I  am  neither  old  nor  young.  I  know 
you  expected  to  meet  Sir  John  Yilliers  here,  for  Lady  Di.  told 
me  she  had  asked  him." 

Lady  Di.  had  now  taken  her  seat,  and  coffee  was  served. 
When  the  servants  had  re'tired,  Lord  Shallbeso  addressed  their 
hostess  in  a  tone  which  fixed  the  attention  of  the  party. 

"  My  Lady  Di.,  I  must  tell  you  of  a  very  sad  affair  that  came 
off,  last  night,  at  the  Molesworths'." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  the  lady.  "  What  was  it?  I  trust 
all  our  excellent  friends  are  well." 

"  Perfectly  so,  madam,  perfectly  so !    You  are  aware  that  Sir 


OF  SIR  HENRY  FOX.  181 

Henry  Fox  has  just  come  out,  with  his  appointment  as  ambassa 
dor  ;  and  I  was  invited  to  meet  him  at  Mrs.  Molesworth's  select 
dinner-party,  last  evening,  at  eight  o'clock.  (Very  select,  ladies, 
or  you  would  have  been  there !)  Sir  Henry  very  kindly  called 
to  take  me  on  his  way,  for  he  wanted  me  to  help  him  through 
the  awkwardness  of  an  introduction  into  our  social  circles.  As 
we  went  into  the  dressing-room  to  deposit  our  hats,  who  should 
be  there  but  Sir  John  Villiers,  brushing  his  fine  suite  of  hair 
before  the  mirror;  seeing  me  come  in,  he  turned  round  and  spoke 
out :  '  Ah !  my  lord,  how  are  you  to-night  ? '  His  eye  then  rested 
upon  Sir  Henry  Fox.  He  looked  like  a  man  who  sees  a  ghost. 
I  said :  «  Sir  Henry  Fox,  this  is  Sir  John  Villiers ;  friends,  I  pre 
sume  ? '  Sir  Henry  stood  holding  his  hat  behind  him,  looking 
at  Sir  John  with  a  calm,  cold,  contemptuous  look,  under  which 
Sir  John  quailed,  and,  pale  as  death,  seized  his  hat  and  with 
drew  from  the  house.  '  My  lord,'  said  he,  '  is  this  the  society 
into  which  I  am  about  to  be  introduced  ? '  I  told  him  I  really 
could  not  understand  his  conduct,  nor  read  aright  that  of  Sir 
John  Villiers.  *For  some  time  he  kept  himself  occupied  at  the 
glass,  in  silence,  when  he  asked  me  if  he  could  not  see  Mrs. 
Molesworth.  I  said,  certainly,  and,  at  his  request,  I  sent  to  her, 
and  she  received  us  in  her  little  side-parlor.  After  all  the  usual 
salutations  were  over,  Sir  Henry  asked  Mrs.  Molesworth, '  What 
position  Sir  John  Villiers  held  in  her  social  circle  ? '  She  looked 
at  me  with  surprise,  and  I  too  was  surprised,  and  could  help  her 
in  no  way,  when  she  replied :  '  I  really  know  nothing  of  Sir  John 
Villiers,  unless  it  be  that  he  is  a  very  fine  gentleman,  and,  as  one 
of  noble  family,  I  invited  him  to  meet  you.  Do  you  know  ? ' 
said  Mrs.  Molesworth,  turning  to  me.  I  told  Sir  Henry  that 
16 


182  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

this  man  had  come  among  us  as  was  very  common  for  stars 
to  come,  —  dropped  down  from  the  sky,  or  it  might  be  from  the 
moon;  that  he  called  himself  Sir  John  Villiers;  that  he 
dressed  remarkably  well,  talked  fluently  of  all  the  noblemen  of 
his  native  land,  and  evidently  knew  them,  for  he  never  tripped 
at  all ;  and  lost  money  to  some  of  our  elegant  ladies  with  grace  ; 
and  their  husbands,  so  long  as  they  won  his  money,  were  careless 
of  his  antecedents,  however  profuse  their  wives  were  of  their 
attentions  to  him."  My  lord  here  found  it  necessary  to  take  his 
handkerchief  from  his  pocket,  and  the  look  of  his  face  was  some 
thing  for  Annie  to  catch, —  it  was  full  of  cunning  and  mischief. 
The  handkerchief  somehow  would  n't  come,  and  the  fretfulness 
of  Mrs.  Proudfit,  the  impatience  of  Lord  D.,  and  the  look 
of  blank  expectancy  in  the  face  of  Colonel  Proudfit,  were  all 
expressive  of  anxiety ;  while  Lady  Di.  sat  in  beautiful  apathy, 
as  if  she  cared  nothing  for  Sir  John  nor  for  Sir  Henry,  and  was 
already  weary  of  this  long  story. 

"  Pray  bring  your  tale  to  an  end,"  cried  Mrs.  Proudfit,  whose 

• 
insouciance  was  all  gone  now,  and  her  eye  glittered  with  repressed 

rage. 

Not  at  all  hurried,  my  lord  folded  his  bandanna  and  put  it 
carefully  away,  and  then  felt  of  the  pocket  on  the  outside,  to  be 
certain  it  was  all  safe. 

"  Mrs.  Molesworth,"  continued  the  old  lord,  "  seeing  that  noth 
ing  was  to  be  gained  by  holding  on  to  Sir  John,  said :  '  She 
knew  no  more  of  this  person  than  she  had  said ;  but  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  members  of  society  whose  positions  were 
highly  respectable  in  Vanity  Fair,  stood  sponsors  for  his  right 
of  entree  into  her  house,  and  the  society  of  Vanity  Fair." 


OF  SIR  JOHN  VILLIERS.  183 

"  And  what  had  Sir  Henry  Fox  to  say  against  the  gentility 
of  the  most  graceful  man  I  have  ever  seen  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Proudfit ; 
"  let  us  have  your  story,  and  be  done  with  it.  My  lord,  you  are 
not  only  rude,  but  excessively  wearisome,  this  evening." 

"  Doubtless !  doubtless !  you  want  the  pith  and  point  of  my 
story ;  and  here  let  me  make  one  remark,  which  will  carry  con 
viction  with  it."  This  was  said  with  a  significancy  that  seemed 
to  mean  a  great  deal,  and,  too,  it  told  upon  his  hearers,  —  "  'Gold 
may  be  bought  too  dear.'  Now,  ladies,  for  the  finale.  Sir 
Henry  expressed  himself  with  great  courtesy  to  Mrs.  Moles- 
worth,  in  saying  :  '  He  was  aware  of  the  impossibility  of  protect 
ing  society  from  such  men.  That  this  person  was  extremely 
clever,  had  seen  all  the  persons,  had  heard  them  converse, 
and  could  speak  of  them  without  difficulty  as  familiar  acquaint 
ances  ;  that  he  had  obtained  all  this  knowledge  from  standing 
behind  his  chair,  as  his  valet.  That,  after  leaving  him,  he  had 
become  an  adept  in  the  art  of  gambling;  and,  as  a  gam 
bler,  aided  by  a  degraded  man  of  high  rank,  had  set  up  a  bank, 
and  plundered,  most  successfully,  several  young  men  of  fortune. 
In  one  word,  he  was  no  Villiers,  but  a  villain.'  " 

Now,  if  a  look  could  have  killed  Lord  Shallbeso,  he  would 
have  been  a  dead  man.  "  One  word  more,"  said  he ;  "I  have 
made  inquiry,  and  find  he  has  had  cashed  all  the  I.  0.  U.'s  he 
held,  and  I  presume  that  those  who  hold  his  cards  with  these 
mystic  letters  upon  them  can't  get  them  cashed  at  any  rate  of 
discount, —  for  he  's  off." 

The  party  now  at  once  resumed  the  air  of  having  forgotten 
all  that  the  lord  had  just  told  them,  and  Mrs.  Proudfit  was  really 
amusing  for  a  half-hour ;  when  her  husband,  who  had  been  con- 


184  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

ferring  with  Lord  D.  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  requested  her 
to  put  on  her  shawl  and  return  with  him.  She  did  so,  without 
the  least  appearance  of  any  wish  to  leave ;  and,  when  shawled, 
returned  to  the  room  and  gracefully  urged  our  pilgrims  to 
remain  and  give  her  the  opportunity  of  entertaining  them  at  her 
house.  She  even  held  out  her  hand  kindly  to  Lord  Shallbeso, 
and  said,  "  She  must  make  up  with  him  before  she  left."  The 
old  man  could  not  resist  the  pleasant  tone  and  manner  in  which 
this  was  said  and  done ;  and  was  so  far  conciliated  as  to  accept 
a  seat  in  their  carrage,  to  be  set  out  at  his  own  door,  on  their 
way  home. 

Lord  and  Lady  D.  entreated  our  pilgrims  to  stay  with 
them,  but  they  preferred  going  to  a  hotel.  Lord  D.  took  them 
in  his  carriage  to  a  splendid  palace,  called  the  "  Mansion- 
House,"  where  his  presence  secured  them  the  best  rooms,  and 
every  possible  attention.  This  done,  my  lord  took  his  leave, 
saying  he  would  call,  with  great  pleasure,  and  show  them  the  city 
on  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

• 

LORD     SHALLBESO     MEETS     BISHOP    IIIGIIANDRY   AT     OUR     PILGRIMS'. 

THE  next  day,  Gertrude  woke  with  a  high  fever,  and  Oliver 
prescribed  rest,  and  some  slight  medicine.  None  of  them  were 
perfectly  well,  and  all  were  glad  it  rained  hard,  so  as  to  save 
them  from  the  call  of  Lord  Dielincceur.  It  cleared  up  beauti- 


OUR   PILGRIMS   AT   THEIR   HOTEL.  185 

fully  at  sunset,  and,  as  their  windows  opened  into  a  sweet  garden, 
they  sat  together,  feeling  better  for  the  fragrance  and  the  breeze 
which  now  came  into  their  parlor.  They  were  about  to  order 
tea,  when  the  card  of  Lord  Shallbeso  was  sent  up,  and  he  was 
very  kindly  welcomed.  They  were  delighted  to  see  how  very 
attractive  he  could  be,  when  he  had  no  one  to  contradict  or  rival 
him  in  conversation.  He  told  them  many  pleasant  anecdotes ; 
and,  by  order  of  Frank,  a  very  nice  supper  was  about  being  served 
at  nine  o'clock,  when  Lady  Di.'s  card  came,  and  Oliver  rose 
to  go  down  to  escort  her  up,  when,  lo  !  Lady  Di.  entered,  accom 
panied  by  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Highandry.  She  was  glad  to 
•see  the  nice  rooms  our  party  had,  and,  whon  invited  to  lay  aside 
her  bonnet  and  join  them  at  supper,  everything  about  the  table 
wore  an  air  of  so  much  taste  and  luxury,  she  could  not  decline, 
though  she  had  promised  the  bishop  she  would  stay  but  a  moment. 
The  ladies  appealed  to  him  for  his  consent,  and  found  no  difficulty 
in  securing  it.  At  ten  o'clock,  Lady  Di.  and  the  bishop,  Lord 
Shallbeso  and  our  pilgrims,  were  all  enjoying  a  pleasant  even 
ing  supper.  For  a  while,  nothing  could  be  more  agreeable  than 
these  guests  were,  to  themselves  as  well  as  to  their  entertainers. 
But  it  was  too  good  to  last.  The  bishop  outshone  my  Lord 
Shallbeso,  and  my  lady  was  entirely  absorbed  by  all  he  had  to 
tell  her  of  a  visit  made  him  by  Wyncoop,  from  whom,  of  all 
others,  authentic  information  could  be  obtained  of  the  Night 
ingale,  for  he  had  met  with  her  abroad ;  and  told  the  bishop 
a  multitude  of  particulars,  all  which  the  bishop  was  pleased 
to  relate  to  so  many  pretty  listeners,  of  whom  Lady  Di.  was 
chief.  Indeed,  he  was  himself  especially  delighted  to  learn  that 
the  Bird  of  Song  was  about  to  ally  herself  to  a  nephew  of  his 
16* 


186  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

very  eminent  and  distinguished  friend,  the  Bishop  of  Exeter,  — an 
event  which  would  at  once  invest  her  with  the  ardor  of  piety,  — 
and  ended  by  saying  "  she  would  reach  Babylon  within  a  month, 
and  soon  be  among  us." 

The  old  lord  was  evidently  uneasy  and  weary  of  a  topic  in 
which  he  could  not  take  part.  At  this  time,  there  seemed  a 
chance  for  him  to  speak,  and,  addressing  himself  to  Lady  Di., 
he  said : 

"  There  were  never  such  fools  as  we  !  Here  we  are,  from  one 
end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  all  on  the  qui  vive  about  a  bird  of 
song,  soon  to  be  a  bird  of  passage,  and,  par  excellence,  {  The 
Nightingale.'  Now,  I  have  heard  Catalina,  —  often  heard  her; 
and  nobody,  not  a  city,  certainly,  went  mad  about  her.  And  I 
have  heard  Malibran,  a  woman  gifted  with  all  the  powers  of 
nature  and  art ;  but  who  ever  heard  of  any  stupidity  or  folly 
on  her  account?  But,  my  Lady  Di.,  'tis  all  humbug,  humbug! 
This  is  the  way  the  new  power,  the  power-press,  makes  its  power 
felt.  It  is  all  the  work  of  claquers,  paid  by  the  line,  and  well 
paid.  No  one  understands  this  '  art  and  mystery '  better  than 
Burn'em,  —  himself  the  prince  of  humbugs  !  " 

"  But  this  is  the  expression  on  the  entire  continent,"  said 
Lady  Di. 

"My  dear  lady,"  replied  Lord  S.,  ''do  you  suppose  the 
only  bought-up  press  in  the  world  is  that  of  Babylonia  ?  Have 
you  never  heard  of  Dr.  Solomon's  '  Balm  of  G  ilead ; '  of  '  Day 
and  Martin's  Blacking  ; '  or,  to  come  nearer  home,  of  '  Brand- 
reth's  Pills,'  and  '  Moflfatt's  Phoenix  Bitters  '?  and  of  the  wonder, 
ful  profits  of  pen  and  ink  when  enlisted  in  the  science  of  humbug  ? 
Bless  you,  my  lady !  there 's  never  a  want  of  dupes.  These  are 


THE  SCIENCE   OF  HUMBUG.  187 

only  limited  by  the  industry  of  knaves;  though  I  fear,  if 
Burn'em  succeeds,  we  shall  be  the  laughing-stock  of  all  England 
for  our  gullibility."* 

Lady  Dielincoeur,  to  vary  the  conversation,  asked  Oliver  what 
he  had  been  doing  during  the  day.  He  replied  he  had  purchased 
a  new  work  on  Geology,  a  science  to  which  he  was  much  de 
voted,  and  had  been  reading  it  aloud  to  his  wife.  This  brought 
a  compliment  to  Annie  for  her  ability  to  sympathize  with  her 

*  Extract  from  the  London  Times:  "It  is  humiliating  to  a  nation, 
which  boasts  that  it  leads  the  van  of  human  improvement,  so  little  capa 
ble  of  appreciating  the  relative  dignity  and  merit  of  different  talents  and 
employments  as  to  bow  down  in  prostrate  adoration  at  the  feet  of  a  woman, 
who,  after  all,  is  merely  a  first-rate  vocalist.  Sydney  Smith  reminds  the 
Pennsylvanians  that  there  are  some  things  worth  living  for  besides  gin- 
sling  and  sherry-cobbler  ;  and  we  should  have  thought,  but  for  our 
experience  to  the  contrary,  that  it  were  needless  to  have  informed  the 
countrymen  of  Franklin,  Washington,  and  Channing,  that  there  are 
things  more  worthy  the  admiration  of  a  great  people  than  the  power  of 
producing  sweet  sounds.  But,  what  is  stranger  still  than  this  moral 
obliquity  is,  that  the  possession  of  this  much-prized  faculty  by  Jenny 
Lind  was  entirely  taken  for  granted  by  this  acute  and  calculating  people, 
who  were  so  enraptured  by  her  musical  powers  before  they  had  heard  a 
single  note  of  her  voice,  that  we  verily  believe  if,  at  her  first  concert,  she 
had  croaked  like  a  raven,  or  howled  like  a  hyena,  public  opinion  would 
have  pronounced  her  performance  a  little  superior  to  the  music  of  the 
spheres.  We  were  totally  unable  to  account  for  this  palpable  surrender  of 
all  pretensions  to  common  sense  on  the  part  of  the  American  public,  till  we 
fell  in  with  an  article  in  the  New  York  Herald,  in  which  that  journal, 
justly  solicitous  for  the  dignity  of  its  calling,  vindicates  the  American  press 
from  the  charge  of  having  excited  the  American  public  to  so  outrageous  a 
pitch  of  folly  and  self-abasement." 


188  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

husband  in  his  studies,  in  which  the  bishop  and  Lord  Shallbeso 
graciously,  for  once,  agreed.  This  gave  Oliver  a  fair  chance  to 
enlarge  a  little  on  the  latest  discoveries,  and  the  uses  of  this 
science,  its  bearings  on  other  sciences,  and  the  arts  and  pursuits 
of  agriculture ;  all  which  he  did  with  the  very  best  taste,  and  a 
fluency  which  was  attractive  and  edifying.  Annie  was  getting 
nervous  lest  Oliver  should  talk  too  long,  especially  when  he 
was  talking  about  the  crust  of  the  earth,  and  the  rate  of  its 
cooling,  —  about  which  he  had  a  favorite  theory  of  his  own  con 
cocting, —  and  he  was  just  on  the  verge  of  the  subject,  when  old 
Shallbeso  saved  her  and  Oliver  by  saying  : 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me,  sir,  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  ; 
but  really,  sir,  really,  it  seems  to  me  that  ants,  creeping  up  and 
down  upon  the  cupola  of  St.  Peter's,  and  presuming  to  describe  the 
frescoes  of  Michael  Angelo  beneath  them,  would  be  just  as  wise 
as  the  wisest  geologists  in  the  world  talking  about  central  fires, 
and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  beg  you  will  excuse  me,  sir ;  but 
to  me  it  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  moonshine." 

Lady  Di.,  pained  by  this  rude  speech,  assured  Oliver  in  her 
sweetest  manner,  "  She  should  be  gratified  if,  whenever  his  lei 
sure  and  inclination  would  allow  him  to  do  so,  he  would  come 
and  '  talk  her  up '  as  to  recent  scientific  discoveries ;  for,  as  a 
lady  of  fashion,  her  time  was  broken  up  so  entirely  that  she 
depended  wholly  on  the  charity  of  her  learned  friend?  for  all  she 
now  acquired." 

This  was  some  alleviation  to  Oliver's  feelings ;  and,  having 
thanked  her  for  her  polite  courtesy,  and  saying  it  would  give 
him  pleasure  in  any  way  to  contribute  to  her  pleasure,  he  was 
about  to  add  something  more,  when  Annie  touched  his  toe  with 


OF  M.    B.    COATS.  189 

her  own  under  the  table,  intimating  that  he  had  said  enough ; 
and  he  left  off  there.  And  here  we  will  say  that  no  one  who 
is  possessed  of  a  sensible  wife  can  be  too  grateful  for  these  mari 
tal  telegraphic  dispatches. 

Lady  Di.  again  changed  the  topic  by  asking  the  bishop  if  the 
House  of  Bishops  would  assemble  in  Vanity  Fair  this  season, 
saying:  "  It  would  be  to  her  a  source  of  highest  satisfaction  to 
entertain  as -many  as  her  house  could  hold  ;  for  she  had  always 
been  happy  in  finding  all  those  whom  she  had  had  the  pleas 
ure  to  receive  —  mostly  bishops,  to  be  sure  —  as  eminent  for 
their  manners  as  gentlemen  as  for  their  piety  as  priests  and 
bishops." 

"  Piety,  madam !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lord.  "  What  signs  of 
piety  do  you  see  in  these  men,  especially  these  young  parsons 
with  their  M.  B.  coats  hanging  down  to  their  heels  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  M.  B.  coats  ?  "  asked  the  bishop, 
in  a  severe  tone. 

"  That,  sir,  is  the  name  given  by  London  tailors  ^  for  this 
ridiculous  approximation  to  the  costume  of  Jesuits,  adopted  by 
both  sections  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Protestant  Episcopal  church ; 
and  which,  being  interpreted  by  these  tailors,  reads,  '  Mark  of  the 
Beast.'  Is  that  a  riddle  now,  sir  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  bishop,  rising  (and  all  arose),  "  you  have 
often  in  my  presence  expressed  your  utter  want  of  reverence  for 
the  clergy.  Beware,  sir,  beware  !  You  may  bring  down  on 
yourself  the  vengeance  of  a  power  you  cannot  resist.  These 

*The  Edinburgh  Review  for  October,  1853,  page  160,  says  :  "The  sig- 
nificancy  of  these  letters  was  discovered  by  accident." 


190  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

men,  earthen  vessels  as  they  are,  are  yet  the  priests  and  prophets 
of  the  most  high  God  !  " 

"  Thank  you,  bishop  !  thank  you,  bishop  !  you  have  but  done 
your  duty.  I  have  a  great  respect  for  the  clergy,  and  I  am  glad 
that  those  belonging  to  your  church  are,  thanks  to  '  Dissent '  so 
rife  among  us,  so  highly  respectable  ;  and,  though  I  have  no  faith 
that  any  one,  or  all  of  them  together,  can  wield  in  this  day  the 
rod  of  Moses  or  Aaron's  rod,  yet  I  do  rejoice  that  they  are  not 
among  us,  as  they  are  over  the  water,  —  the  Nimrods,  ramrods, 
and  fishing-rods  of  the  land." 

Hereupon,  Lady  Di.  and  the  bishop  withdrew.  Lord  Shall- 
beso  was  in  no  humor  to  take  up  the  thread  of  conversation,  and 
he,  too,  bade  them  good-night. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

OUR   PILGRIMS   BECOME   RESIDENTS   OF   VANITY   FAIR. 

OUR  pilgrims  very  soon  found  there  was  a  great  deal  to  be  seen 
at  Vanity  Fair.  It  so  happened  that  a  neighbor  of  Lord  Dielin- 
co3ur's  was  all  ready  to  leave  for  a  foreign  tour  of  a  year,  and  on 
the  point  of  closing  his  house,  when,  hearing  of  our  pilgrims  from 
Lady  Di.,  he  offered  to  rent  his  house,  furniture,  and  servants,  at  a 
price  which  was  regarded  as  reasonable.  My  lord  immediately 
called,  and  our  gentlemen,  after  due  consultation  with  their 
wives,  agreed  to  take  the  house  at  the  rate  specified,  by  the 
month,  with  liberty  to  leave  at  any  time  they  pleased.  Writings 


THEY  RESIDE  AT  VANITY  FAIR.  191 

and  inventories  were  made  out  in  due  form,  and  signed ;  and,  .at 
the  end  of  a  week,  Frank  and  Oliver  found  themselves  residing 
on  one  of  the  great  squares  in  the  fashionable  quarter,  and  in  one 
of  the  best  residences  in  the  city.  It  was  one  of  those  events 
which  people  are  apt  to  style  "providential,"  —  it  so  exactly 
suited  their  inclinations. 

Through  Lady  Di.,  they  obtained  an  accomplished  Swiss  lady's 
maid,  and  she,  too,  recommended  a  valet  for  the  gentlemen,  who 
had  lost  service  by  the  sudden  disappearance  of  Sir.  John  Vil- 
liers.  He  had  once  been  Lady  Di.'s  page,  and  she  knew  him  to 
be  trustworthy. 

It  may  surprise  the  reader  that  our  pilgrims  should  so  soon 
come  to  a  stand-still  in  their  pilgrimage.  But  this  was  so  com 
mon,  in  the  days  of  which  we  write,  that  it  seemed  no  way 
noticeable ;  and  of  those  who  came,  as  they  did,  on  foot  into  this 
city,  very  few,  in  leaving  it,  did  not  prefer  the  stage-lines  or  the 
railroad  cars. 

Lord  and  Lady  Dielincoeur  introduced  them  into  the  best  cir 
cles  of  society.  The  reputation  our  gentlemen  brought  with 
them  for  wealth,  their  own  good  looks,  and  the  beauty  of  their 
young  wives,  gave  them  positions  which  they  were  well  fitted  to 
maintain  gracefully  and  without  effort. 

They  soon  found  their  rolls  rather  troublesome,  and  their  staffs 
unnecessary.  But  what  could  they  do  with  them,  was  a  ques 
tion  often  mooted.  They  were  too  large  for  walking-sticks  ;  and 
as  for  their  rolls,  they  were  as  stiff  as  a  marshal's  baton,  and 
always  in  the  way.  They  were  never  designed  to  be  folded  up ; 
for  pilgrims  were  expected  to  carry  them  always  in  their  hands 
open,  so  that  they  might  be  daily  and  hourly  examined.  They 


192  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

remarked  that  nobody  took  their  staffs  into  the  street,  and  that 
none  carried  their  rolls  into  society.  *  What  became  of  them  ? ' 
*  What  did  they  do  with  them  ?  '  and,  by  a  sort  of  instinct,  it  came 
to  them,  that  any  inquiry  of  this  sort  would  be  regarded  in  the 
highest  degree  intrusive  and  impertinent.  They  were  mortified 
at  the  askant  looks  caused  by  their  rolls  peeping  out  of  their 
pockets,  or  coming  up  against  their  chins  from  their  bosoms ; 
and  a  smile  would  sometimes  be  seen  on  the  faces  of  the  most 
polite  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  they  met,  who,  at  such 
times,  found  it  hardly  possible  to  keep  their  countenance.  And, 
too,  they  did  not  dare  to  speak  to  each  other  of  the  growing 
annoyance  they  each  and  all  felt,  for  they  were  ashamed  to  do  so. 

One  day,  as  Annie  was  tucking  her  roll  down  under  the  folds 
of  her  dress,  and  could  in  no  way  fix  it  so  it  should  be  hid  from 
sight,  she  said  aloud,  "  I  wonder  how  Lady  Di.  manages  to  wear 
her  roll ! " 

"  0,  madam  !  "  said  Theresa,  who  was  present,  aiding  her  in 
dressing,  "  she  never  had  any." 

"  But  how  do  those  ladies  who  have  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  don't  know  any  such.  I  have  never  lived 
with  anybody  but  Lady  Di.  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  and  my  late  mis 
tress  ;  and  they  don't  know  any  more  about  wearing  rolls  than 
I  do." 

Lord  Shallbeso  called,  that  very  evening;  and,  as  he  had 
already  shown  a  great  partiality  for  Annie,  and  seemed  to  know 
everything,  she  asked  him  what  ladies  did  with  their  rolls.  The 
old  gentleman  laughed  heartily  at  the  question. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Outright,  I  must  let  you  into  a  little  bit  of  a 
secret.  These  rolls,  as  you  must  have  observed,  are  never  seen 


THE   WAY   OF   WEARING   ROLLS.  19.3 

in  good  society ;  vulgar  people  make  a  great  parade  of  them, 
but  no  ladies  or  gentlemen  who  hold  any  position  among  us 
ever  take  their  rolls  with  them  into  an  evening  party  or  to  a 
dinner.  Now,  then,  this  is  the  way  they  dispose  of  theirs  ;  how 
you  may  dispose  of  yours  is  for  yourself  to  decide ;  but  I  will 
tell  you  how  some  very  precise  persons  do,  and  take  delight  in 
doing,  with  similar  rolls ;  and  I  will  call  to  your  mind  the  re 
markably  precise  family  of  Timbertoes,  all  very  « high  church,' 
and  the  Sharpsets,  who  are  very  orthodox  in  their  way,  very 
rich,  and  ambitious  of  rising  in  the  fashionable  world.  Well, 
these  people  carry  their  rolls ;  and  now  comes  the  little  secret, 
worth  knowing,  perhaps.  It  is  this :  these  same  rolls  are  cut 
up  and  sewed  into  the  collars  and  breasts  of  their  dress  coats, 
by  the  gentlemen ;  and  the  ladies,  I  am  credibly  informed,  make 
stays  of  theirs  ;  and  you  will  observe  how  very  stiff  and  formal  it 
makes  them  look,  all  owing  to  this  manner  of  wearing  their 
rolls.  Now,  my  dear  lady,  if  people  must  carry  these  rolls  about 
with  them,  I  think  this  is  the  very  best  of  all  possible  ways." 

Annie,  next  day,  opened  her  heart  to  her  friends  about  theso 
rolls,  and  all  agreed  that  if  they  could  be  deposited  in  a  casket,  to 
be  placed  under  lock  and  key,  with  keys  for  each,  so  that  they 
could  have  access  to  it,  and  with  their  own  key  open  it  at  any 
convenient  season,  they  might  as  well  be  locked  up,  and  the 
staffs  placed  in  a  closet,  under  lock  and  key,  in  like  manner. 
This  idea  was  no  sooner  fairly  presented,  than  it  was  adopted. 
A  nice  casket  was  bought,  four  keys  fitted  to  it,  one  for  each, 
and  then  this  casket  was  placed  on  a  dressing-table,  which  was 
always  in  sight,  and  the  staffs  were  all  locked  up  together  in  a 
closet.  It  was  not  until  these  rolls  had  been  thus  carefully  laid 
17 


194  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

aside,  and,  indeed,  forgotten,  that  our  pilgrims  really  felt  them 
selves  like  being  part  and  parcel  of  the  society  around  them. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

OF    THE   FAMILY    OF   TURNUPNOSES,  AND    OF    THE   CONSERVATORS   Off 
GOOD   SOCIETY. 

THEIR  residence  in  Vanity  Fair  was  made  attractive  by  the 
variety  of  objects  of  interest  they  found  there.  It  was  very 
unlike  Babylon  in  one  respect,  —  the  only  pursuit  here  seemed 
to  be  pleasure.  Our  pilgrims  acted  at  first  with  great  reserve. 
The  attentions  of  Lord  D.  and  Colonel  Proudfit,  and  of 
Lady  Di.  especially,  made  them  acquainted  with  a  very 
wide  circle.  As  for  Mrs.  Proudfit,  she  was  sometimes  very 
courteous,  and  at  other  times  she  ignored  them, — just  as  the 
freak  of  the  moment  chanced  to  take  her.  She  seemed  to  have 
no  control  over  herself,  and  was  everything  by  turns  and  noth 
ing  long. 

The  circles  of  Vanity  Fair  were  various,  but  they  all  united 
at  times  ;  and  then,  too,  the  shades  were  not  so  carefully  defined 
as  in  some  cities.  Money  was  not  so  very  necessary  as  in  Bab 
ylon  and  Bostonia,  And  those  families  were  most  scrupulous 
who  had  the  smallest  pretensions  to  the  position  they  held, 
which  usually  rested  upon  recent  fortunes,  or  official  stations. 
Of  these,  we  may  instance  the  Misses  Turnupnoses,  whose  grand 
father  had  been  a  great  butcher  in  Babylon,  and  was  enriched  by 


OF  THE  TURNUPNOSES.  195 

navy  contracts.  Since  his  death,  they  had  come  to  Vanity  Fair 
to  reside,  and  gave  the  very  best  sort  of  parties,  and  had  become 
established  thereby,  and  were  now  becoming  "  very  select."  It 
was  not  until  they  had  made  themselves  acquainted  with  all 
that  was  to  be  known  of  the  history  of  our  pilgrims,  that  they 
made  a  call ;  and,  in  doing  so,  apologized  for  their  delay. 

"  But,"  said  Miss  Sophronisba,  "  we  have  so  many  calls  upon 
our  time,  we  don't  know  which  way  to  turn.  I  'm  sure  you  will 
excuse  us." 

Annie,  a  little  piqued  by  her  patronizing  tone,  quietly  replied, 
"  We  have  not  felt  the  loss  of  that  the  value  of  which  we  are 
as  yet  ignorant." 

Miss  Sophronisba  really  did  not  know  exactly  what  all  this 
implied;  and,  hardly  supposing  it  was  a  "cut  direct,"  went  on 
to  say :  "  We  hope  to  have  a  very  brilliant  winter.  We  are 
expecting  several  new  operas  will  be  brought  out,  and  some 
grand  parties  are  to  be  given  at  houses  opened  for  the  first  time 
this  coming  season." 

This  young  lady  and  her  sisters  and  brothers  were,  as  we 
have  said,  among  the  best  circles  in  Vanity  Fair,  for  the  time 
being ;  for  there  was  a  change  going  on  there,  and  it  was  by 
constant  labor  and  sacrifice  a  position  could  be  commanded. 
They  were  not  called  Turnupnoses,  but  T  'nipnoses ;  a  way  of 
pronouncing  names  peculiar  to  the  higher  circles,  which  helped 
to  form  themselves  into  a  secret  society,  known  to  each  other  by 
conventional  forms  and  methods  of  speaking.  This  class  were 
distinguished  for  dressing  extravagantly,  talking  loudly,  mouthing 
their  words,  and  other  vulgarities,  which  they  mistook  for  gen- 


196  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

tility.     They  never  for  an  instant  attained  the  air  and  bearing 
of  thorough-bred  ladies. 

Our  ladies  were  often  astonished,  when  listening  to  their  con 
versation,  to  hear  the  freedom  of  their  remarks  upon  the  society 
around  them ;  and,  if  Mrs.  Proudfit  had  no  superior,  she  had 
many  imitators.  And  they  were  soon  initiated  into  the  school 
of  surgery,  to  which  they  had  been  themselves  subjected  by 
all  who  had  called  upon  them  before  they  had  been  recognized 
and  admitted  into  the  world  of  fashion.  For  they  were  not 
slow  to  learn,  when  a  new-comer  was  presented,  as  in  their  own 
case,  the  first  questions  a  coterie  discussed  when  they  chanced  to 
meet  were,  "  Pray,  who  can  tell  us  who  this  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Out 
right  are  ?  What  is  their  standing  ?  Where  are  they  from,  and 
where  are  they  going?"  And,  should  the  unhappy  man  or 
woman  be  a  subject  for  the  scalpel,  should  there  be  any  sore 
spot,  it  was  probed  to  the  quick,  and  the  victim  was  made  to 
feel  that  all  his  wounds  were  known.  Ladies  whose  own  stand 
ing  was  dubious  became  by  common  consent  conservators  of 
morals  and  manners ;  because  they  were  not  only  anxious  to 
keep  down  aspirants,  but  were  extremely  sensitive  to  public 
opinion.  The  code  of  ethics  in  the  world  of  fashion  was  briefly 
this  : 

"  Nothing  is  good  or  bad,  but  thinking  makes  it  so." 

And  here  we  will  remark  that  Miss  Sophronisba  Turnupnose 
stood  high  as  one  of  the  conservators  of  good  society  in  the  west 
end  of  Vanity  Fair. 


FASHIONABLE  LADIES.  197 

CHAPTER    XL. 

A    MORNING   VISIT    OF    FASHIONABLE    LADIES. 

IT  was  a  fine  day,  and  our  ladies  were  at  home,  when 
Theodore  announced  Miss  Gulphin,  Miss  Little,  Miss  Lavinia 
T'nipnose,  who  had  just  held  a  little  conversation  at  Taylor's 
saloon,  over  an  ice-cream,  about  making  this  visit.  They  had 
left  cards  at  our  pilgrims',  and  received  return  cards  ;  and  now 
the  way  was  open  for  a  call  in  person,  and  "  Should  they  make 
it?"  and,  if  so,  "Should  they  make  it  now  together  ?"  This 
was  affirmatively  answered.  Having  introduced  each  other,  and 
taken  their  seats,  Mrs.  Bates,  a  beautiful  gay  widow,  on  passing 
the  house,  seeing  the  carriages  at  the  door,  was  induced  to  make 
a  call,  and  so  get  rid  of  the  annoyance  of  a  first  visit  without 
company.  Mrs.  Bates  begged  Miss  Gulphin  to  present  her; 
and,  this  over,  all  the  ladies  seated  themselves  in  something 
approaching  a  circle,  made  by  wheeling  up  chairs  and  ottomans. 

"  When  did  you  arrive,  ladies  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Bates. 

"  It  was  on  the  eleventh  of  the  month,"  replied  Gertrude. 

"  On  the  eleventh !  Ah,  that  came  on  Thursday ;  it  was 
Corpus  Christi,"  said  Miss  Little. 

"  Why  !  that  was  the  day  I  dined  at  Mrs.  Molesworth's  with 
Sir  Henry.  Poor  Mrs.  Proudfit !  she  has  reason  to  remember 
that  day,  if  her  husband  does  not,"  said  Mrs.  Bates. 

"  That  was  a  most  mortifying  affair,  certainly,"  said  Miss 
Gulphin  ;  "  and  I  confess  I  admire  the  bravery  with  which  she 
meets  it.  I  saw  her  the  next  day,  the  very  next  day,  at  Mrs. 
17* 


198  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

Molesworth's  reception,  just  as  haughty,  and  with  an  air  as 
defiant,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I  believe,  ladies,"  turn 
ing  to  Annie  and  Gertrude,  "  you  are  acquainted  with  Mrs. 
Proudfit." 

"  Yes,  we  dined  with  her  on  the  day  of  our  arrival  at  Lord 
Dielinco3ur's,"  said  Annie. 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bates;  and  a  sentiment  of  de 
lightful  anxiety  was  to  be  seen  on  the  face  of  every  lady. 
"  Pray,  tell  us,  how  did  she  endure  the  story  old  Lord  Shallbcso 
had  to  tell.  Did  n't  she  lose  temper  ?  " 

"  We  were  not  observant,"  replied  Gertrude. 

"  0,  yes  !  you  did  n't  know  anything  about  her  previous  his 
tory  at  that  time,"  said  Mrs.  Bates,  "  and  could  not  have  known 
all  the  mortification  she  had  to  endure.  Ah  !  if  you  had  known 
that  she  admitted  a  valet  and  blackleg  into  her  confidence,  and 
had  been  seen  with  him  everywhere,  —  dining  him  at  home,  and 
dancing  with  him  at  balls,  —  you  would  have  seen  how  sharp 
was  the  satire  of  old  Shallbeso." 

"  That 's  nothing,"  said  Miss  Little,  "  to  what  Colonel  Proudfit 
has  been  called  upon  to  suffer.  He  had  given  his  cards  for  his 
losses  for  a  month  before  to  this  fellow,  and  taken  his  for  his 
winnings,  with  the  understanding  that  the  difference  was  to  be 
paid  or  received  on  settling-day,  which,  at  the  club-house,  is  on 
the  first  of  the  month.  And  this  fellow  cashed  all  he  held  at 
the  bank,  and  left  for  parts  unknown.  And  the  colonel  has  had 
a  hard  time  to  keep  his  name  from  being  posted." 

"  Don't  you  admire  her  pose  ?  "  said  Miss  Little,  addressing 
Mrs.  Bates. 

"Pose,  Miss  Little  !     I  really  don't  understand  how  you  use 


A   FASHIONABLE   CALL.  199 

t&e  word.      But,  if  you  mean   hardihood   and  invincible  self- 
possession,  why,  then  I  admire  her  pose" 

"  Don't  you  wonder  Lady  Di.  is  so  intimate  with  her  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  T'nipnose.  "  Is  n't  that  very  odd  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bates  replied :  "  Not  at  all.  Lady  Di.  wants  just 
such  women  about  her.  She  is  so  indolent  herself  that  she 
finds  great  pleasure  in  the  society  of  those  who  are  ever  on  the 
move,  who  go  everywhere,  see  a  great  deal ;  and  especially  Mrs 
Proudfit,  who  is  at  home  in  society  with  a  gay  circle  of  gentle 
men;  who  is  piquant  in  her  descriptions,  and  unscrupulous  in 
her  satire.  She  does  the  most  daring  things,  tells  her  own  sur 
mises  as  the  most  certain  of  truths,  and,  besides,  has  a  zest  for 
intrigue,  which  a  beautiful,  indolent,  pleasure-loving  lady  loves 
to  have  about  her.  And,  come  what  may,  she  will  never  lose 
caste  with  Lady  Di. ;  and  Mrs.  Proudfit  will  have  the  entree  into 
her  boudoir,  and  a  seat  in  her  carriage,  whenever  she  pleases 
to  use  it.  That 's  my  prediction,  and  you  will  see  it  will  come 
true." 

Miss  Gulphin  said :  "  Well,  I  never  have  been  able  to  under 
stand  it.  You  don't  think  Lady  Di.  ever  had  any  liking  for 
Colonel  P.  ?  " 

"  She  have  a  liking  for  any  one  \  "  said  the  gay  Mrs.  Bates, 
with  an  air  of  admirable  astonishment.  "  No  I  she 's  too  indo 
lent  to  sacrifice  her  comfort  to  all  the  annoyances  of  a  love- 
aflair  ;  especially  with  one  so  vain  as  Colonel  Proudfit.  No,  no, 
there  is  a  tie  of  some  sort  between  these  husbands  ;  but  what  it 
is,  I  can 't  say.  Perhaps  tl>ey  are  partners  in  luck  at  the  Carlton 
Club  :  who  knows  ?  They  seem  to  hunt  in  couples." 

"  I  declare,  Mrs.  Bates,  if  you  have  n't  hit  upon  the  very 


200  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

thought  which  father  expressed  at  table,  no  longer  ago  than 
yesterday ;  but  I  never  breathed  such  an  idea  to  any  one,"  said 
Miss  Gulphin. 

"  Nor  will  you  now,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Bates,  in  a  tone  of 
voice  changed  entirely  to  a  severe  and  serious  key-note ;  "  for,  if 
you  do,  you  shall  bear  it  alone ;  for  I  tell  you  now  I  withdraw 
all  I  've  said  here  on  that  subject, —  every  word  of  it." 

"  You  need  not  fear  us,"  replied  Miss  Gulphin ;  "  we  know 
too  much  to  get  ourselves  or  others  into  difficulty.  But  I  say 
this :  I  think  it  is  high  time  we  purged  our  visiting-list,  and  I 
mean  to  do  so,  for  one ;  and  next  year  my  list  will  no  longer 
bear  the  names  of  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Proudfit." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mrs.  Bates.  "  If  I 
held  your  rank  and  position  here,  I,  too,  would  be  delighted  to 
follow  your  example." 

"  I  think  we  shall  do  so,  at  all  hazards,"  said  Miss  T'nipnose ; 
"and  we  know  what  it  will  cost;  but  we  have  made  up  our 
minds  to  the  sacrifice,  for  we  think  we  owe  it  to  society,  —  and 
somebody  must  go  ahead  in  matters  of  this  sort." 

And  now  the  ladies  all  arose ;  but  not  to  go,  not  necessarily 
to  take  leave,  but  as  a  change  of  position  merely.  It  was  to 
show  that  that  matter  was  settled.  The  next  matter  that  was 
broached  was,  the  fact  that  Mrs.  George  Van  Dyke  and  Miss 
Julia  Van  Dyke  and  Miss  Euphemia  Van  Dyke  had  reached 
the  city,  and  taken  a  suite  of  rooms  in  the  St.  Andrew's 
Hotel.  This  was  news,  pleasant  tidings,  to  our  ladies,  and  they 
expressed  their  pleasure  on  hearing  it.  "  What  has  brought 
them  here,  and  will  they  pass  the  winter  with  us  ?  "  was  asked 
})j  Miss  T'nipnose. 


OF  JULIA  VAN  DYKE.  201 

"  I  really  do  not  know,"  said  Miss  Little,  who  had  communi 
cated  the  fact :  "  but  I  am  told  Julia's  health  was  somewhat 
impaired  by  bathing  so  freely  at  the  sea-shore,  summer  before 
last,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lawrence,  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Trinity,  thought  a  short  trip  would  do  her  good,  and  she  would 
recover  her  spirits.  Some  say  she  has  been  disappointed  in  love. 
She  is  a  sweet  girl,  and  I  am  very  sorry  for  her." 

"  I  was  told  she  came  out  to  be  present  at  the  next  confirma 
tion  by  our  bishop,"  said  Miss  Gulphin. 

"  Confirmed,  indeed !  "  said  Miss  T'nipnose.  "  I  wonder  if 
she  wants  to  be  confirmed  in  her  admiration  of  Count  Snow- 
miblusky,  or  Count  Emile  de  Gassy,  or  whatever  his  name 
may  be." 

"  And  have  you  heard  of  that  hateful  count  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Gulphin  ?  " 

"  0  yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  Mimosa  Standtolyes  wrote  me  at 
the  time,  all  about  it ;  and,  from  all  she  has  told  me,  I  've  no 
doubt  Julia  was  greatly  interested  in  the  man,  and  placed  her 
name  in  a  very  unenviable  nearness  to  his,  not  only  at  the  Ocean 
House,  but  in  Babylon,  last  winter ;  and  he,  too,  has  proved  to 
be  a  swindler." 

Annie  spoke  up :  "  Ladies,  I  know  Miss  Julia  Yan  Dyke,  and 
I  know  Miss  Mimosa  Standtolyes ;  and  I  beg  to  say  to  you,  that 
Miss  Standtolyes  has  done  great  wrong  to  Miss  Julia  Van  Dyke, 
if  she  has,  by  a  single  word  of  hers,  said  anything  to  stain  the 
purity  of  this  beautiful  maiden,  who  is  my  friend." 

No  sooner  had  Annie  said  this,  than  the  current  instantly 
changed.  "  There  never  was  a  more  charming  girl,"  said  Mrs. 
Bates.  "  I  felt  deeply  pained  at  what  was  told  at  the  time,  and 


202  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

was  glad  to  know  her  fine-spirited  brother  horsewhipped  Tom 
Greatrake  for  repeating  the  story  on  his  return  to  town.  It 
quieted  everybody  in  an  instant.  But,  after  all,  poor  girl !  she 
has  done  wisely  to  come  to  Yanity  Fair  for  a  winter ;  for  she 
could  not  live  in  Babylon,  and  see  the  placards  on  all  the  corners 
of  the  streets." 

"  Placards  !  "  exclaimed  Gertrude.  "  Pray,  what  does  all  this 
mean  ?  " 

"  0,  you  don't  know  what  happened  after  you  left !  "  said  Mrs. 
Bates.  "  I  chanced  to  be  in  town  at  the  time.  It  turned  out 
that  the  Count  Emile  de  Gassy  was  nothing  but  a  barber ;  and 
he  has  opened  a  perfumery-shop  in  town,  and,  go  where  you  will, 
you  see  along  the  streets,  '  Emile  de  Gassiot's  Incomparable  Hair- 
Oil.  And  those  who  take  sides  with  Tom,  and  against  Julia, 
are  buying  this  oil ;  and  then,  you  know,  people  are  so  ill-natured ! 
One  will  say, '  she  is  delighted  with  this  new  article  for  the  hair ; ' 
another,  « that  she  has  found  an  article  at  last  that  "  lubricates 
without  soiling,  gives  glossiness  without  greasiness,"  '  quoting  the 
advertisement ;  and  you  know  how  many  ways  there  are  of  being 
teased  in  good  society,  when  there  is  no  way  of  reply  left  you." 

"  Poor  girl !  "  said  Miss  Gulphin,  "  I  mean  to  call  upon  her 
at  once.  It  is  a  very  handsome  family,  and  all  her  cousins  and 
brothers  are  devoted  to  her.  She  has  a  cousin  with  her,  I  believe  ; 
and  if  I  can  add  to  her  happiness,  and  make  her  forget  her  grief, 
I  shall  do  so." 

Now,  nothing  could  be  more  amiable,  thought  Annie,  than  such 
a  purpose ;  and  she  felt  almost  angry  with  Miss  Little,  who  said, 
significantly  :  "I  think,  Miss  Gulphin,  Mr.  Wakefield,  the  '  great 


COLLOQUY   CONTINUED.  203 

catch'  of  Melville  Square,  has  done  this  already,  if  I  am  correctly 
informed." 

"Mr.  Wakefield!"  exclaimed  Miss  Gulphin;  "why,  he  is 
engaged  to  my  cousin !  —  I  thought  everybody  knew  that !  —  and 
he  has  been  so  for  a  year  past !  " 

"  He  was,  my  dear,"  replied  Miss  Little,  with  a  little  bit  of 
sarcasm  in  her  tone,  as  if  the  maxim  of  La  Rochefoucauld^ 
could  not  fail  to  be  true  in  her  experience.  "  He  was ;  but  your 
cousin  Henrietta  indulged  herself  in  a  little  raillery  about  his 
cousin  and  her  count,  and  he  broke  off  the  match,  and  offered 
himself  to  Julia  at  once ;  and  they  say  he 's  mad  in  love  with  her. 
Is  n't  that  odd  ?  " 

"  I  am  astonished,  indeed  !  "  said  Miss  Gulphin  ;  "  but,  then, 
the  Simpkinses  are  rich,  and  Henrietta  won't  care.  Wakefield  is 
a  very  good  man,  but  rather  gauche;  he  never  will  have  the  ton 
a  fashionable  woman,  at  the  end  of  her  honey-moon,  would  wish 
in  a  husband ;  and  I  have  always  said  so." 

"  Do  you  think:  so  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Bates.  "  I  should  think  Mr. 
Wakefield  a  grand  match  for  any  one." 

"  You  speak  for  yourself,  madam  !  "  said  Miss  Gulphin. 

Mrs.  Bates  replied,  with  a  courtesy,  sweeping  past  Miss  Gul 
phin,  and  turning  slightly  round,  curving  her  neck  proudly  : 

*  "  In  the  adversity  of  our  best  friends  we  often  find  something  which 
does  not  displease  us." — La  Rochefoucauld'' s  Maxims,  p.  356. 
Or,  as  Dean  Swift  says  : 

"  To  all  my  foes,  dear  Fortune,  send 
Thy  gifts,  but  never  to  my  friend  ; 
I  tamely  can  endure  the  first, 
But  this  with  envy  makes  me  burst." 

Verses  on  his  Own  Death. 


204  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  When  I  speak  of  such  matters,  I  assure  you,  Miss  Gulphin,  I 
never  address  myself  to  the  public  ear."  Then,  advancing  to  our 
ladies  briskly,  she  made  her  bow  and  retired.  She  was  followed 
by  the  other  visiters,  who,  in  varied  methods,  all  of  which  were 
graceful,  showed  this  had  been  a  matter  of  method ;  for  there  was 
much  in  what  was  said  which  had  been  memorized,  and  made 
fluent  by  repetition,  —  "  welcoming  our  ladies  to  the  city ;  hoping 
it  would  be  sufficiently  attractive  to  induce  them  to  make  a  long 
stay ;  that  nothing  should  be  wanting  on  their  part  to  make  it  so." 
And,  when  all  was  said  and  all  were  gone,  Gertrude  sat  down, 
with  a  look  of  amazement. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  these  fine  people,  and  of  our  new-found 
friends  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

Gertrude  replied :  "  I  declare  I  ntrver  heard  so  much  to  distress 
me,  in  so  short  a  time,  before.  What  are  we  to  believe,  and  with 
whom  may  we  be  safe  ?  " 

"  I  think,  cousin,  we  can  trust  each  other ;  and  my  plan  is  to 
trust  none  else.  Your  husband  wants  to  see  the  society  of  Vanity 
Fair ;  mine  wants  to  see  some  of  its  science ;  and  we,  like  good 
wives,  -must  wait  upon  their  movements.  One  thing  we  must  do, 
—  keep  this  gossip  to  ourselves ;  and,  as  Lord  and  Lady  Dielin- 
coeur  have  been  our  good  friends,  we  will  believe  them  to  be  so 
until  we  make  discoveries  of  our  own  to  their  disadvantage." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Gertrude ;  "  and  yet,  I  hate  to  hear  anything 
to  the  disadvantage  of  any  one  around  me,  for  I  never  feel  after 
wards  precisely  as  I  did  before.  It  takes  time  to  wear  out  these 
ink-spots  on  the  memory." 


HARD-SHELLS  IN  VANITY  FAIR.  205 

CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    HARD-SHELLS   IN    VANITY   PAIR. 

OUR  pilgrims  naturally  sought  out  those  religionists  in  Yanity 
Fair  with  whom  they  symbolized.  They  found  the  Tremont, 
Oxford,  d'ltalia,  represented  by  large  communities.  The  Lower 
House,  Old  Nassau  Hall,  and  the  New  School,  and  other  Inter 
preter's  Houses,  were  not  popular  at  Yanity  Fair ;  in  one  word, 
they  were  not  fashionable.  It  was  some  time  before  they  found 
out  the  chapel  of  their  own  communion.  It  was  out  of  the  way, 
in  a  suburb  called  Joppa ;  and  the  few  who  assembled  seemed 
well  content  with  things  as  they  were.  They  held  the  most 
stringent  and  exclusive  of  all  systems.  The  fewness  of  the  num 
ber  likely  to  be  saved,  and  the  certainty  that  they  were  of  the 
elect,  seemed  to  be  a  matter  of  congratulation.  They  gloried  in 
the  name  of  HARD-SHELLS,  given  to  them  in  derision,  at  first,  by 
their  opponents,  and  now  worn  by  them  with  pride.  It  arose 
from  their  manner  of  eating  oysters,  the  meat  of  which  they  threw 
away,  and  then  carefully  pounded  the  shells  fine,  which,  being 
mixed  with  meal,  they  baked,  and  ate  for  food.  It  need  not  be 
told  that  these  people  were  of  a  very  costive  habit.  They  were 
equally  ultra  in  other  matters.  Everything  which  bore  marks  of 
finish  and  refinement  was  a  matter  of  church  discipline  and  cen 
sure.  One  of  the  "  sisters,"  coming  up  to  Annie,  who  wore  a  lace 
veil  over  her  face,  asked  her  "  If  she  was  a  pilgrim  ?  "  Annie  said 
"  She  hoped  so."  "  You  '  hope  so ! '"  said  the  sister ;  "  you  ought 
to  know  so !  And  let  me  tell  you,  young  woman,  if  you  were  a 
18 


206  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

pilgrim  indeed,  the  veil  would  long  since  have  been  taken  from  off 
your  face."  Annie  could  say  nothing,  and  looked  very  meek 
under  the  reproof.  As  for  Sister  Hard-Shell,  she  went  away  with 
the  air  of  proud,  conscious  power ;  for  she  had  something  to  tell 
of,  to  remember  and  repeat,  to  the  day  of  her  death.  So  soon  did 
our  friends  find  that  there  must  be  some  other  bonds  of  sympathy 
and  fellowship  than  unity  of  opinion  as  to  the  right  way  of  com 
mencing  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

MRS.  PROUDFIT'S  OPENING  PARTY.  —  THE  ARRIVAL  OF  THE  NIGHT 
INGALE. 

THE  winter  opened  at  Vanity  Fair  as  is  usual  in  other  great 
cities.  The  theatres  blazoned  their  attractions  along  the  great 
thoroughfares.  The  equipages  of  the  gay  and  great  world  were 
in  motion,  day  and  night.  The  States-General  were  in  session, 
which  brought  an  influx  of  strangers,  so  that  with  the  opening  of 
a  new  year  "  the  gay  season  "  was  at  its  height. 

Our  pilgrims,  though  residents  of  Vanity  Fair,  in  accordance 
with  their  carefully-considered  determinations,  had  declined  all 
invitations  to  balls  and  grand  parties.  Nor  would  they  be  per 
suaded  to  change  their  purpose  to  go  to  Mrs.  Proudfit's  party, 
with  which  the  season  up-town  ppened.  It  was  to  be  a  ball ;  and 
the  rumor  that  it  would  be  attended  by  some  very  distinguished 


207 


persons  from  abroad,  to  whom  the  party  would  be  given,  made 
everybody  on  the  qui  vive  to  go ;  and  then,  too,  as  it  was  to  be 
"  very  select,"  this  anxiety  was  greatly  enhanced.  After  a  most 
vexatious  delay,  the  cards  were  sent  out.  Then  began  all  those 
little  arts  which  are  so  commonly  practised  for  the  procuring  of 
invitations  by  those  wno  are  uninvited.  Mrs.  Proudfit  perfectly 
understood  the  society  around  her.  She  had  purposely  left  out 
those  who  had  been  most  free  with  their  speeches.  She  meant  to 
punish  them,  "  to  make  them  toady"  (her  own  phrase),  before  she 
sent  the  wished-for  card.  And  as  our  ladies  and  gentlemen  were 
known  to  stand  high  with  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  they  were 
inducted  into  some  secrets,  and  had  a  little  insight  behind  the 
scenes ;  when  Mrs.  Bates,  the  T'nipnoses,  Miss  Gulphin,  and  Miss 
Little,  at  different  times,  called  upon  them,  and,  with  infinite  skill, 
sought  to  enlist  their  good  ofiices  to  get  tickets  for  them  to  the 
party.  With  great  amiability,  our  ladies  were  entreated  to  under 
take  to  secure  them  tickets.  Calling  on  Mrs.  Proudfit,  they  said 
to  her :  "  Have  you  omitted  these  persons  from  design,  or  not  ? 
If  you  have  a  purpose  in  it,  we  have  nothing  more  to  say ;  but 
if  it  is  among  the  accidents  of  getting  up  your  party,  then  permit 
us  to  say,  they  would  be  gratified  to  receive  your  cards." 

"  My  kind  friends,"  said  Mrs.  Proudfit,  "  you  are  very  new  to 
Vanity  Fair.  These  ladies  have  stood  first  among  those  who  availed 
themselves  of  an  unfortunate  acquaintance  made  by  my  husband, 
most  innocently,  at  the  Club-House,  and  have  done  what  they 
could,  for  the  last  three  months,  to  unsettle  my  position  in  society. 
I  have  waited  my  time,  and  it  is  come.  These  persons  have 
already  come  to  me  with  their  solicitations,  in  various  ways ;  and 
I  had  purposed  to  pillory  them,  as  I  can  do,  and  dare  do,  if  there 


208  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

were  an  army  of  them.  They  are  the  midges  in  society,  with 
little  stings  which  annoy,  but  never  hurt.  Miserable  women, 
ugly,  and  finically  fine,  —  I  positively  could  crush  them  with  as 
little  mercy  as  I  would  so  many  spiders !  " 

Our  ladies  said  they  had  been  persuaded  to  make  this  call  with 
some  reluctance,  and  they  would  not  wish  any  change  made  in 
her  plans  at  their  persuasion. 

"  No,  my  dear  ladies,  nor  shall  I  make  the  slightest  change. 
I  mean  these  women  shall  come ;  for  it  is  my  purpose  to  punish 
them  yet  further,  and  I  can  best  do  this  in  the  presence  of  all  my 
guests,  in  a  way  which  they  will  feel — perhaps.  I  say  perhaps, 
for  they  are  neither  very  bright  nor  very  sensitive.  I  shall  try 
my  best.  Say  to  these  ladies  so  much  as  this  :  that  I  will  take 
this  matter  into  consideration,  that  they  have  neither  been  over 
looked  nor  forgotten." 

On  the  Monday  of  the  week  on  which  her  party  came  off,  Mrs. 
Proudfit  sent  the  desired  cards  to  our  ladies,  requesting  them  to 
present  them,  —  thereby  intimating  to  those  invited  that  they 
owed  the  success  of  all  their  efforts  to  the  intervention  of  Mrs. 
Outright  and  Mrs.  Trueman. 

On  the  next  evening  after  the  party  was  given,  Mrs.  Bates  and 
Miss  Grulphin  and  the  T'nipnoses  called,  with  some  gentlemen, 
as  they  said,  to  "  tell  our  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  party,  and 
how  greatly  they  were  indebted  to  them  for  their  kindness." 

"  I  think  it  was  the  most  delightful  party  I  ever  attended. 
Such  a  supper !  and,  then,  the  music !  0,  it  was  indeed  beautiful 
throughout !  "  said  Mrs.  Bates. 

"  And  how  did  Mrs.  Proudfit  sustain  herself?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  Just  as  spiteful  as  she  could  be  and  live,"  replied  Mrs. 


209 


Bates.  "  She  seemed  ennuied  at  times,  and  then  she  said  the 
most  unheard-of  things  to  her  guests,  but  in  such  a  way  that 
nobody  knew  how  to  take  her.  She  is  a  riddle,  that,  for  one,  I 
never  shall  solve.  But  I  kept  out  of  her  way.  I  know  her  of 
old.  I  wanted  to  go  to  her  party,  and  did  so,  —  thanks  to  you, 
Mrs.  Outright."  - 

The  other  ladies  had  less  to  say,  for  they  were  not  so  wise  as 
Mrs.  Bates,  and  Mrs.  Proudfit  had  made  them  conscious  of  her 
power,  and  of  their  degradation,  in  the  presence  of  those  whose 
good  opinion  they  were  most  anxious  to  obtain.  Her  object  in 
giving  this  grand  party  had  been  to  dispel  the  impression  made 
on  the  fashionable  world  by  her  admiration  of  a  valet ;  and,  when 
she  saw  she  had  succeeded,  she  cared  not  to  conceal  her  contempt 
for  those  she  had  so  easily  won.  Her  eagle  eye  took  in,  at  a 
glance,  the  motives  of  those  around  her.  To  such  as  were  the 
true  arbiters  of  fashion  her  manners  were  gracefully  courteous, 
polite,  and  deferential ;  but  for  those  whom  she  regarded  as 
vulgar  imitators  and  aspirants  she  had  none  of  the  charming 
mannerisms  of  society. 

The  week  following  the  party,  our  pilgrim  ladies  called  on 
Lady  Di.,  who  expressed  her  regret  that  they  were  not  at  the 
party.  "  I  am  sorry  you  did  not  go,  for  we  met  some  very  nice 
persons  there.  Several  strangers  from  abroad,  one  a  famous 
novelist;  and,  above  all  others,  I  wanted  you  to  become  ac 
quainted  with  my  very  dear  friends,  the  Count  and  Countess  du 
Rudolstadt ;  they  came  down  from  their  mountain  home 
expressly  to  be  present  as  Mrs.  Proudfit's  party." 

"  These  names  are  very  familiar  to  me,"  said  Annie. 

"  0  yes,"  said  Lady  Di. ;  "  you  have  seen  them  in  Madame 
18* 


210  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

George  Sand's  novel  of  Consuelo.  They  go  by  these  names  in 
society  now,  and  they  have  the  good  sense  to  appreciate  the 
grace  with  which  the  genius  of  Madame  Sand  has  invested 
them ;  nor  are  her  talents  in  any  degree  exaggerated." 

"  Did  she  sing  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  0  no ;  Mrs.  Proudfit  would  never  so  far  forget  the  eleva 
tion  in  which  Consuelo  moves,  as  to  ask  her  to  sing  at  a  party  ! 
There  was  a  rumor  that  she  would  sing,  which  was  whispered 
around  the  city;  and  it  afforded  certain  persons  the  needed 
apology  for  being  there.  How  it  arose  nobody  could  tell,  but 
it  suited  Mrs.  Proudfit's  purpose  admirably." 

"  Where  do  the  count  and  countess  reside  ?  "  asked  Gertrude. 

"  And  have  you  never  heard  of  the  Phalanstery  ?  Ah !  well, 
we  must  make  a  summer  party  there.  It  is  situated  in  a  beau 
tiful  valley  among  the  Astral  Mountains,  one  of  the  sweetest 
spots  in  the  world,  and  they  have  made  it  a  paradise." 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation,  Lord  Shallbeso  was  ushered 
in,  and  his  cordiality  was  real,  and  gratifying  to  our  ladies 
especially.  As  for  Lady  Di.,  she  seemed  the  most  unimpressible 
person  in  the  world. 

"  I  saw  Mrs.  Outright's  carriage  at  your  door,  Lady  Di.,  and 
could  not  refuse  myself  the  pleasure  of  a  call ;  and  I  have  some 
pleasant  news  to  tell  you." 

"  Pleasant  news  from  you,  my  lord,  is  indeed  a  rarity,"  said 
Lady  Di. 

"  Lady  Di.  wants  you  to  believe  I  am  a  great  Bug-a-boo ;  but 
you  ladies  know  me  to  be  among  the  most  amiable  of  men." 

"  Certainly  we  do,"  said  Annie. 

"  There,  Lady  Di.,  what  can  you  say  now  ?    But  I  have  news 


THE   GULLIBILITY   OF  BABYLONIANS.  211 

to  tell  you,  and  I  am  glad  to  be  the  first  to  tell  it  to  you,  ladies. 
There  are  those  who  will  go  into  ecstasies  about  it,  who  have,  in 
fact,  no  more  soul  in  them  than  the  stones  they  tread  upon ;  but 
to  you,  ladies,  it  will  be  glad  tidings  of  great  joy." 

"  My  lord,  enough  of  this !  "  said  Lady  Di. 

Lord  Shallbeso  bowed  with  profound  reverence  to  Lady  Di. 

"  I  have  just  received  the  Babylonian  Herald,  which  an 
nounces  the  arrival  of  *  the  Nightingale,'  got  up  in  old  Burn'em's 
best  manner.  The  gullibility  of  the  people  seems  to  task  the 
capacity  of  his  daquers.  Here,  ladies,"  said  old  Shallbeso, 
opening  the  paper,  "  are  five  columns  of  what  is  known  to 
printers  as  '  fat  matter,'  and  it  certainly  is  uncommonly  rich. 
It  begins  by  telling  us  of  the  convulsion  which  shook  the  com 
mercial  metropolis  of  England  to  its  centre,  upon  the  event  of 
her  leaving  for  the  New  World ;  and,  having  thus  prepared  for 
our  public  an  apology  for  any  sort  of  folly  they  might  perpetrate 
on  their  own  behalf,  Burn'em  set  his  machinery  at  work.  Her 
coming  was  expected  on  Saturday  night,  and  he  had  enlisted  the 
Fire  Department  of  Babylon  to  welcome  her  to  her  hotel." 

"  Fire  Department !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Di.  "  You  are  jesting. 
What  appreciation  have  such  men,  in  their  red-flannel  shirts, 
glazed  hats,  and  blazing  torches,  of  the  divine  art,  and  the 
modern  Malibran  ?  " 

"  Ah !  my  Lady  Di.,  you  don't  understand  the  genius  of  a 
great  man,  —  the  skill  with  which  Burn'em  manages  musicians, 
and  the  multitude.  Pray,  my  lady,  who  is  to  pay  him  back  the 
vast  sum  he  has  stipulated  to  give  this  Nightingale  ?  Will  the 
sweet  ladies  in  their  opera-cloaks,  and  with  attendant  beaux  in 
white  vests  and  kids,  help  him  bear  up  under  such  a  weight  of 


212  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

obligation  ?  No  !  no  !  So  soon  as  these  have  exhibited  their 
faces  and  fashions  a  few  times,  they  leave  the  artiste  and  singers 
of  the  opera  to  starve.  What  care  they  ?  No,  Lady  Dieofarose 
Dielincoeur,  Burn'em  is  no  such  fool.  He  seeks  to  enlist  the 
sympathy  of  the  masses,  and  he  will  do  it.  It  is  a  sober  fact, 
ladies,  that  the  Fire  Department  were  out  to  welcome  this 
singer ;  and,  with  great  regret,  they  were  compelled  to  extin 
guish  their  torches  because  of  her  non-arrival." 

"  My  lord,  it  is  very  odd,  is  it  not  ?  "  said  Annie. 

"  Pardon  me,  dear  Mrs.  Outright,"  replied  my  lord,  in  a 
very  amiable  tone  for  him.  "Is  it  so  very  strange ?  Now,  it 
seems  to  me  one  of  those  unique  and  delicate  compliments  which 
the  great  genius  of  Burn'em  alone  is  equal  to." 

"  You  are  certainly  teasing  us,"  said  Lady  Di. 

"  Let  me  explain,"  he  replied,  "  and  you  will  see  I  am  right. 
The  significancy  lies  here  :  the  Fire  Department,  by  an  entire 
surrender  of  hooks,  engines,  ladders,  and  other  apparatus,  would 
thus  have  made  manifest  to  the  Nightingale  their  inability  to 
extinguish  the  flames  which  her  presence  had  enkindled  in  every 
quarter  of  a  great  city." 

"  Well,  my  Lord  Shallbeso,  are  you  serious?  "  asked  Gertrude, 
with  beautiful  earnestness  and  simplicity  of  manner. 

"  Never  more  so,  upon  my  honor.  But  this  is  not  the  crown 
ing  triumph." 

I'  "  Indeed  !  "  said  Annie,  "  can  anything  more  absurd  than 
this  have  been  enacted  ?  " 

"  Nothing  more  absurd,"  replied  my  lord,  "  but  something 
yet  more  striking.  You  all  know  the  sanctity  of  the  Sabbath  is 
not  only  a  matter  of  religious  sentiment,  but  the  law  of  the  land, 


THE   GREAT  MR.    BURN'EM.  213 

in  Babylon ;  —  'for  in  it  tliou  shalt  do  no  manner  of  work ; '  — 
but  this  great  law  of  God  and  man  Burn'em  has  trampled  in 
the  dust.  It  was  said,  by  a  great  statesman,  '  In  revolutionary 
times  there  are  no  Sabbaths.'  So  it  was  when  Burn'em's  claquers 
and  news-boys  received  the  tidings  of  the  coming  steamer.  The 
fire  spread  from  one  end  of  the  city  to  the  other  ;  multitudes  were 
borne  along  to  the  docks  ;  an  '  Arc  de  Triomphe,'  surmounted  by 
a  stuffed  eagle  from  Burn'em's  Museum,  and  a  bouquet  of  arti 
ficial  flowers  hanging  from  his  beak,  awaited  the  coming  of  the 
Nightingale.  Now  let  me  read  out  of  the  Herald  :  (  This  scene 
baffles  description ;  bouquets  of  beauty  and  costliness  were 
showered  upon  the  horses,  upon  the  coachmen,  and  a  favored 
few  reached  the  lap  of  the  Nightingale.  The  police  fought  like 
lions ;  but  one  tremendous  rush  carried  away  the  Arc  de  Tri- 
omphe,  when  the  excitement  rose  to  a  pitch  of  wild  tumult.'  " 

"  "Was  anybody  killed  ?  "  asked  Gertrude,  breathlessly,  as  she 
thought  of  an  arch  falling  in  ruins  upon  the  mass  of  men  and 
women. 

My  lord  laughed  at  the  thought.  "  0,  no  !  this  was  nothing 
but  one  of  Burn'em's  humbugs.  The  crash  was  nothing  but  the 
tumbling  down  of  a  few  boards,  but  then  it  served  a  turn  to 
help  out  a  good  story." 

"  Have  you  finished  ?  "  asked  Lady  Di. 

"  I  have,  madam,  if  you  wish  it  so!  "  replied  my  lord. 

"  0,  by  no  means !  Only,  my  lord,  let  us  have  the  naked 
truth,"  replied  Lady  Di. 

"  The  naked  truth,  lady,  can  only  be  guessed  at.  We  may,  I 
think,  be  sure  of  this,  that  Burn'em  has  roused  up  the  common 
people  to  think  the  coming  of  a  popular  singer  is  something  they 


214  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

have  a  hand  in,  and  for  which  they  will  exchange  their  notes  for 
hers;  an  exchange  every  way  in  his  favor.  Burn'em  begins 
with  the  Fire  Department ;  next  he  will  enlist  the  Free  and 
Accepted  Masons ;  nor  should  I  be  surprised  if  he  brought  in 
at  last  the  Reverend  Clergy ;  the  Grandfather  Graybeards  will 
come  in  as  a  graceful  tail  to  the  kite  —  Vive  la  bagatelle !  " 

"  My  Lord  Shallbeso,"  said  Annie,  with  some  spunkiness  of 
manner,  "  I  don't  like  the  way  you  have  spoken  of  the  com 
mon  people,  —  the  bone  and  sinew  of  our  great  confederacy.  I 
rejoice  that  they  are  capable  of  being  made  to  feel  that  the  great 
gifts  of  God  and  art  are  theirs  as  well  as  ours ;  that,  in  mat 
ters  of  this  sort,  we  possess  a  common  nature,  and  that  music, 
which  addresses  itself  to  the  highest  and  purest  of  our  emotions, 
comes  within  the  range  of  their  capacities,  as  well  as  of  those 
calling  themselves  '  the  best  society.'  And  Mr.  Burn'em  is  doing 
the  state  good  service,  and  I  am  glad  he  has  the  skill  to  do  it.  I 
wish  him  all  success  !  " 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  "  exclaimed  Lord  Shallbeso  ;  while  Lady 
Di.  patted  her  hand  with  her  folded  fan ;  and  Annie,  ashamed  of 
her  enthusiasm,  with  glowing  cheeks,  sought  to  get  down  from 
the  heights  to  which  she  had  soared,  by  saying,  "  I  hope  she  will 
come  to  Vanity  Fair  while  we  are  here ;  and  if  she  sings  at 
concerts,  I  will  go  and  hear  her." 

"  And  why  not  if  she  sings  in  opera  ?  Do  the  mere  scenery 
and  costumes  change  notes,  clear  as  crystal  and  pure  as  gold, 
into  pinchbeck  ?  "  said  Lord  Shallbeso. 

"  I  don't  reason  about  such  matters,  my  lord,"  replied  Annie 
"  I  act  upon  my  intuitions ;   these  tell  me  to  stay  at  home." 

"  That 's  very  absurd,  my  child !  "  replied  my  lord. 


THE  BISHOP   OF  TURKEY.  215 

"  My  lord,  don't  forget  yourself,"  said  Lady  Di.  "  I  hope 
you  will  hear  her,  Mrs.  Outright.  I  am  sure  you  will,  and  that 
my  friend,  Mrs.  Trueman,  will  unite  with  us  in  this  compliment 
to  nature  and  art." 

"  I  make  no  decisions  so  far  in  advance,  my  lady,"  said 
Annie,  and  she  rose  to  leave. 

"  Indeed,  Mrs.  Outright,  I  do  believe  what  you  say,  —  strange 
as  it  is  to  believe  it  of  a  lady,"  said  my  lord,  who  also  rose,  hat 
in  hand,  to  accompany  them  home. 

Lady  Di.,  rising,  said  :  "My  dear  friends,  I  have  a  favor  to 
ask.  The  Bish£p^£Turkey  is  in  town,  and  I  shall  have  a  small 
party  in  honor  of  his  visit ;  at  which  will  be  present  those  young 
ladies  and  gentlemen  who  are  to  be  confirmed  on  next  Sunday, 
and  a  few  of  the  students  and  clergy,  together  with  the  parents 
of  these  young  persons.  My  lord,  I  do  not  invite  you,"  said 
Lady  Di.,  turning  to  Lord  Shallbeso,  "  for  I  do  not  wish  a  pall 
to  be  thrown  over  the  pious  sentiments  and  religious  gayeties  of 
my  young  friends." 

"  Nor  a  wet  blanket  over  the  glowing  cheeks  of  my  Lord 
Bishop  Highandry,"  replied  Lord  Shallbeso.  "  I  cannot  be 
among  your  guests,  for  I  am  engaged  to  dine  with  Sir  Henry, 
at  the  Molesworths'." 

Now,  as  the  Molesworths  were  the  great  rivals  of  Lady  Di., 
this  was  a  very  hard  hit.  It  told  that  lady  of  a  party  to  Sir 
Henry  Fox,  whose  presence  she  had  hoped  would  grace  her  own ; 
and,  too,  of  a  dinner-party,  to  which  Lord  D.  and  herself  were 
not  invited.  But  Lady  Di.  was  too  well  disciplined  to  seem  to 
hear  one  word  my  Lord  Shallbeso  had  said. 

Our  ladies  gracefully  and  promptly  promised  to  come  with 


216  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

their  husbands.  Lady  Di.'s  pleasure  was  shown  by  her  looks, 
more  than  by  the  words  in  which  she  expressed  her  acknowledg 
ments. 

When  our  ladies  were  once  more  at  home  and  alone,  Gertrude 
said,  "  I  wish,  Annie,  we  were  out  of  this  city.  It  is  very  poor 
progress  we  are  making  towards  the  Celestial  City,  and  I  told 
Frank  so  this  morning ;  but  he  said,  '  We  are  certainly  on  the 
way,  for  we  have  made  a  start.'  " 

"  And  what  reply  did  you  make,  Gertrude?  " 

"  Well,  I  could  n't  help  it,"  replied  Gertrude,  with  a  deep- 
drawn  sigh ;  "I  said  to  Frank,  l  And  so  too  Lot's  wife.'  " 

"  Dear  cousin,"  said  Annie,  "  we  don't  any  of  us  look  like 
pillars  of  salt,  do  we  ?  " 

"  No,  dear  Annie,  but  have  not  our  hearts  become  cold  as 
marble?" 

"  Never !  "  exclaimed  Annie,  "  not  a  bit  like  it ;  'we  are  in 
the  world,  but  not  q/"it.'  " 

"  Burning  and  shining  lights !  "  said  poor  Gertrude,  with  a 
sad  smile. 

"  Don't  let  us  be  sad,  cousin,"  said  Annie.  "  Here  come  our 
husbands."  Annie  ran  to  welcome  them,  and  all  thoughts  of 
the  Celestial  City  were  forgotten  for  the  time. 


REV.  MR.  LAVENDER.  217 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

LADY   DI.'S   PARTY   TO    THE   BISHOP    OF    TURKEY. 

WHEN  Frank  and  Oliver  were  told  of  the  confirmation  party 
at  Lord  Dielincoeur's,  they  were  greatly  surprised,  for  Lord  and 
Lady  D.  were  in  this  city  among  the  leaders  of  ton.  They  were, 
however,  "  very  high  church ;"  that  is  to  say,  they  belonged  to  the 
congregation  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Martyrs,  where  beautiful 
flowers  and  lighted  tapers  adorned  the  altar ;  where  the  prayers 
were  sometimes  intoned  and  the  Psalms  and  Litany  sung ;  where 
there  was  any  amount  of  church  tactics  displayed  by  a  half-dozen 
priests  in  their  robes  marching  up  in  Indian-file  to  the  altar,  in 
a  minuet-like  step,  and  then  crossing  over  and  filing  back  again, 
manosuvring  after  a  pious  sort.  Here  too  the  priest  preached  in  a 
surplice,  and  the  offertory  was  read,  and  the  plates  circulated  for 
charity,  on  every  Sunday.  The  rector,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lavender, 
dated  his  notes  on  St.  Bridget's  day,  ate  fish  on  Fridays,  quar 
relled  with  dead  dissenters,  and  declined  dining  out  with  living 
ones ;  he  was  a  dutiful  son  to  the  fathers,  but  cared  not  a  fig  for 
the  grandfathers,  the  apostles,  whom  he  set  at  defiance ;  he  wore 
his  coat  of  the  M.  B.  cut,  inculcated  cruciform  prostrations  for 
young  ladies,  and  was,  as  nearly  as  possible,  in  conformity  to  the 
Roman  church,  without  being  lost  in  it. 

Now,  Lord  and  Lady  Dielincojur,  though  very  devout  in  their 
manners  in  church,  ignored  all  religion,  with  a  high-bred  courtesy, 
for  every  day  in  the  week.  Religious  duties  or  opinions  they 
regarded  est  trop  at  all  other  times.  In  this  they  had  many 
followers,  to  whom  they  were  mirrors  of  fashionable  demeanor* 
19 


218  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

A  religious  party  at  Lord  Dielincoeur's  was  a  novelty  indeed, 
and  our  gentlemen  were  glad  to  go.  The  next  evening,  at  ten 
o'clock,  they  entered  the  brilliantly  illuminated  mansion.  The 
saloons  were  already  thronged,  and,  having  disposed  of  their 
hoods  and  hats,  they  entered  and  made  their  bows  to  Lady  Di.  and 
her  husband.  Lady  Di.  received  them  with  distinguished  con 
sideration,  and  herself  presented  them  to  the  ."Right  Rev.  Father 
in  God,  the  Bishop  of  Turkey,  who  stood  near  her.  .This  emi 
nent  dignitary  of  the  church  was  a  man  of  dark  aspect,  and  a 
heavy  brow.  He  had  won  a  high  meed  of  fame  by  his  zeal  in 
perpetuating  ancient  Christianity  in  the  East. 

To  return  to  Lady  Di.'s  party.  The  party  was  eminently 
clerical,  —  for  there  were  here  assembled  the  Rev.  Professor 
Lacy,  Rev.  Dr.  Goodhue,  Rev.  Dr.  Whitecloth,  Rev.  Mr.  Lav 
ender,  Rev.  Dr.  Pimlico,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Rosemary,  with  other 
clerics ;  beside  students  from  the  Theological  Seminary. 

Of  these  young  sprigs  of  divinity,  the  acolytes  were  known  at 
once ;  for  they  all  wore  the  clipped  shirt-collar,  the  stiff,  tie-less 
neckcloth,  the  M.  B.,  the  cassock  vest,  the  cropped  hair,  the  unwhis- 
kered  cheek,  of  young  Jesuit  priests.  These  were  in  gay  converse 
with  sweet  girls  dressed  in  all  the  splendor  of  fashion,  whose  mod 
esty  was  very  remarkable  at  their  heels,  but  paradisiacally  decol 
lete  ;  and  Oliver  and  Annie  both  remarked  how  difficult  a  task 
it  was  to  these  young  saints  to  keep  their  eyes  from  wander 
ing.  Of  all  this  none  were  so  conscious  as  these  very  sweet,  art 
less  girls ;  who,  in  compassion,  so  flirted  their  fans  that  it  was 
only  by  glimpses  their  beautiful  busts  could  be  seen  by  them. 
As  for  the  city  beaux,  young  men  in  dainty  vests  and  kid 
gloves,  wearing  the  appearance  of  manikins  of  merchant-tailors, 


219 


they  were,  on  this  occasion,  quite  neglected  by  the  young  ladies ; 
as  they  deserved  to  be.  For,  as  there  was  to  be  no  dancing, 
they  were  of  no  use  whatever ;  and,  besides,  there  were  certain 
matters  in  hand  of  great  moment,  in  which  these  young  ladies 
and  these  novices  were  all  deeply  interested,  of  which  we  shall 
speak  hereafter.  At  this  time  these  are  secrets  only  known  to 
the  initiated ;  and  we  must  not  anticipate  our  narrative. 

Colonel  Proudfit,  so  soon  as  Gertrude  was  at  liberty,  came  to  her 
side,  as  was  now  his  custom  in  society.  Men  love  contrasts  ;  and, 
certainly,  no  greater  contrast  could  he  find  than  existed  between 
his  lady  and  the  lady  of  Mr.  Trueman.  And,  too,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  Mrs.  Proudfit  had  shown  some  signs  of  her  appreciation  of 
the  attractiveness  of  Mr.  Frank  Trueman ;  but  as  yet  this  was 
only  noticed  by  her  especial  friends. 

"  Are  these  young  Jesuits?"  asked  Gertrude. 

"0  no  !  "  replied  the  colonel.     "  These  are  Theologians." 

"  Indeed !  how  much  they  look  like  Jesuits  in  petto !  "  said 
Gertrude. 

"  Now,"  said  the  colonel,  turning  to  Frank,  who  stood  be 
side  his  wife,  "  if  Lord  Shallbeso  was  here,  he  would  say,  like 
priests  in  petticoats.  "Where  can  my  lord  be,  that  he  is  not 
here?" 

"  He  is  at  the  Molesworths',  I  believe,"  said  Frank. 

"  I  am  sorry  he  is  not  here.  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Trueman, 
that  you  and  Mrs.  Outright  are  favorites  of  his  ?  It  is  a  great 
compliment  to  you,"  said  the  colonel. 

Gertrude  bowed  her  acknowledgments,  and  Frank  spoke : 
"  I  am  glad  he  likes  us,  for  we  are  all  greatly  inclined  to  his 
society." 


220  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

The  company  was  unusually  brilliant  and  joyous.  Everybody 
was  talking  with  fluency,  the  young  gentlemen  only  excepted. 
After  mingling  with  these  groups  for  a  while,  Annie  and 
Oliver  took  vacant  seats  in  a  circle  of  a  group  who  had  chosen 
a  snug  corner  for  themselves.  Here  sat  the  Rev.  Mr.  Laven 
der,  Mrs.  Henry  Gibbs,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Whitecloth,  and  Miss 
St.  John ;  with  all  whom  they  had  some  acquaintance,  and  into 
whose  circle  they  were  kindly  welcomed. 

"  Mrs.  Gibbs,  do  not  let  our  coming  interrupt  or  change  the 
current  of  your  conversation,"  said  Annie. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  was  saying  to  Dr.  Whitecloth 
that  I  could  not,  for  my  life,  find  out  what  certain  fantastical  peo 
ple  mean  when  they  talk  of  '  Christian  experience,'  and  go  on  to 
describe  all  the  processes  of  thought  and  feeling  which  they  say 
they  went  through  in  being  '  born  again.'  There  's  nothing  of 
all  this  in  the  Prayer-Book,  doctor  ?  "  appealing  by  look  to  the 
reverend  doctor. 

"  Not  one  word,  dear  madam,"  he  replied. 

"  And,"  continued  Mrs.  Henry  Gibbs,  "  I  would  like  to  ask 
these  people,  who  insist  on  this  precise  knowledge,  if  they  doubt 
their  own  existence  because  they  know  nothing  of  their  being 
born  into  this  world.  When  they  do  this,  then,  I  think,  they 
will  be  entitled  to  deny  the  new  birth,  duly  administered  in  our 
church  by  baptism,  to  her  infant  members;  'wherein  they  are 
made  heirs  of  God,  and  inheritors  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  " 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Lavender  bowed  profoundly  to  Mrs.  Gibbs,  who 
was  a  very  clever  woman,  and  a  person  of  distinction  in  the 
church  up-town ;  and  he  said :  "  Mrs.  Gibbs,  I  really  do  not 


MES.   HENRY   GIBBS.  221 

recollect  to  have  heard  this  point  made  before.  It  strikes  me  as 
conclusive.  No  churchmen  ever  so  low  (and  such  churchmen 
are  usually  very  low  people)  can  be  so  vulgarly  stupid  as  to 
deny  their  own  existence,  that  they  were  once  born ;  and  how  can 
they  question  their  being  born  again,  if  they  have  been  duly 
baptized,  because  unconscious  of  it?  and  when  the  church  so 
expressly  teaches  the  fact  of  their  regeneration  in  all  her 
formularies  ?  MASKELL,  a  recent  writer  of  great  learning,  says, 
what  is  precisely  in  confirmation,  madam,  of  your  position  :  '  We 
cannot,'  says  Maskell,  '  comprehend,  and  we  cannot,  therefore, 
explain,  baptismal  regeneration  in  the  mode  of  its  operation ;  it 
is  a  mystery,  and  we  must  be  content  to  believe  it  as  such,  and 
as  a  most  certain  birth  of  the  Gospel.'  And,  further,  he  says : 
'  This  is  our  new  birth,  an  actual  birth  of  GOD,  of  the  Water  and 
the  Spirit,  as  we  were  actually  born  of  our  natural  parents.'  "  * 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Whitecloth  said :  "  It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted 
that  our  church  should  have  adopted  the  name  of  Protestant. 
As  one  of  the  consequences  of  this,  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
hold  in  reverence  the  names  of  Tyndall,  Wickliffe,  Cranmer, 
Ridley,  and  Latimer.  Why,  iny  friends,  I  speak  it  with  pain, 
these  men  were  schismatics,  all  of  them  unsound  in  what  my 
Lord  Bishop  of  Exeter,  in  his  pamphlet  entitled  '  A  Scriptural 

*  The  following  is  the  title-page  of  this  work  :  "  HOLY  BAPTISM,  a  Disser 
tation  by  W.  Maskell,  M.A.,  Domestic  Chaplain  to  the  Right  Rev.  Lord 
Bishop  of  Exeter. 

By  whom  was  this  child  baptized  ? 
With  what  matter  was  this  child  baptized  ? 
With  what  words  was  this  child  baptized  ?  " 

(Second  edition.)     London.     W.  Pickering,  1848.    We  quote  p.  352. 
19* 


222  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Review  of  our  Liturgy, 'published  in  London,  1851,  has  laid 
down  as  the  basis  of  the  whole  scheme  of  Anglican  theology."  * 

"  The  adoption  of  that  hateful  word, '  Protestant,'  has  induced 
me  to  fear  we  may  be  ourselves,  in  very  deed,  '  schismatics,' " 
said  Mrs.  Gibbs. 

"  Alas !  "  said  Mr.  Lavender,  with  a  sigh,  "  all  this  comes  out 
of  our  church's  sympathy  with  that  rebellion  of  the  human  mind 
against  authority,  falsely  called  '  the  Reformation.'  But,  I 
would  ask,  who  are  Luther,  Calvin,  Bucer,  and  Zuingle,  that  wo 
should  listen  to  them,  rather  than  to  St.  Augustine,  St.  Ambrose, 
St.  Chrysostom,  St.  Justin,  and  St.  Clement;  in  a  word,  to 
schismatics,  rather  than  to  the  fathers  of  our  One  Holy  Catholic 
Church  ?  When  shall  we  crush  this  nest  of  vipers  ?  Is  there 
any  means  to  be  used  by  the  church  for  the  recovery  of  the  con 
trol  it  once  possessed  over  the  consciences  and  hearts  of  men  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  matter  we  have  now  under  consideration,"  said  the 
Rev.  Dr.  "Whitecloth.  "  You,  perhaps,  understand  to  what  I 
allude,  Mrs.  Gibbs  ?  "  bowing  to  her  significantly. 

"  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Gibbs,  "  and  I  have  been  charmed  with 
the  plan.  It  is  a  most  happy  thought,  and  I  feel  confident  of 
its  success." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Mr.  Lavender. 
"  We  shall  need  the  countenance  of  the  ladies  especially ;  but 
we  have  travelled  away  from  our  topic,  to  one  as  yet  not 
in  such  state  of  forwardness  as  to  be  made  public." 

"  Pardon  us,  Mrs.  Outright,"  said  Mrs.  Henry  Gibbs.  "  I  was 

*  The  bishop's  words  are  :  "  The  dogmatic  theory  of  Baptism  becomes, 
of  necessity,  the  basis  of  the  entire  scheme  of  Anglican  theology." 


THE   SUPPER-ROOM    OF  LADY   D.  223 

going  to  add  to  what  has  been  said  by  Mr.  Lavender  just  this 
remark :  Too  many  among  us  have  relied  upon  the  meeting-house 
clocks,  manufactured  by  Genevan  watchmakers,  forgetting  to 
look  up  to  the  unerring  dials  upon  our  own  Minsters  ;  for  myself, 
I  can  say,  I  neither  go  with  '  dissenters  '  for  time  nor  eternity." 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Whitecloth  was  delighted  with  these  happy 
conceits  ;  he  heard  them  for  the  first  time.  Mrs.  Gibbs  was  in 
the  habit  of  concocting  and  memorizing  clever  speeches,  and  Mr. 
Lavender  had  heard  all  this  before  ;  but  it  was  all  new  to  the 
rest  of  the  group.  The  reverend  doctor  said  he  should  repeat  it 
at  dinner  to-morrow,  when  he  should  dine  with  the  Bishop  of 
Turkey.  This  Mrs.  Gibbs  insisted  he  should  not  do ;  but  the 
doctor  said  it  was  so  good,  it  ought  to  be  embalmed  in  the  next 
Diocesan  Letter  to  the  Clergy. 

The  supper  was  now  announced,  and  the  group  at  once  dis 
missed  all  spiritual  affairs  for  those  temporal.  The  guests  were 
ushered  into  a  hall  beautifully  lighted.  Wax  lights,  from 
golden  chandeliers,  were  reflected  by  mirrors  reaching  from  the 
floor  to  the  ceiling.  The  drapery  was  a  texture  of  woven  glass 
which  shone  with  a  golden  hue ;  the  magnificence  of  the  table  was 
all  that  plate,  porcelain,  and  cut-glass,  combined  with  taste  and 
skill,  could  create.  But  this  was  not  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
sights  beheld  in  that  hall.  The  party  of  gay  and  lovely  girls 
shone  in  sweet  contrast  with  parsons  in  the  bud  and  bishops 
in  full  bloom  :  their  parents  and  the  young  gentlemen  serving  as 
a  background  to  the  picture. 

During  supper  Mrs.  Proudfit  made  her  appearance  suddenly, 
accompanied  by  Sir  Henry  Fox.  She  pushed  through  the  crowd, 
from  the  door  to  the  head  of  the  table,  making  more  than  one 


224  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

lady  painfully  conscious  of  her  presence.  Her  object  was 
gained  in  having  thus  shown  off  Sir  Henry  to  the  company. 
To  make  her  power  over  that  gentleman  the  more  conspicuous, 
she  withdrew,  taking  Sir  Henry  with  her,  who  seemed  reluctant 
to  leave  5  and,  in  spite  of  all  the  remonstrances  of  Lord  and  Lady 
Dielincoeur,  left  the  house. 

When  the  party  returned  to  the  saloons,  some  girls,  among 
whom  were  their  young  friends,  Netta  Hook  and  Emily  Van 
Nostrand,  came  up  to  Gertrude  and  Frank,  as  they  were  stand 
ing  at  a  window,  accompanied  by  a  couple  of  young  Jesuits. 
Having  spoken  of  the  beauty  of  the  rooms  and  the.  nice  supper, 
and  exhausted  the  usual  topics,  Frank  asked  Netta  Hook  what 
preparation  was  requisite  for  her  coming  rite  of  confirmation, 
which  he  had  heard  spoken  of  during  the  evening. 

"  That  is  what  has  brought  us  here.  And  we  came  early  to 
talk  it  over ;  and  have  agreed  to  dress  in  white  muslin  frocks, 
fitting  close  up  to  the  throat,  and  our  hair  to  be  perfectly  smooth, 
BO  as  to  look  like  nuns.  Won't  it  be  sweet  ?  There  are  to  be 
twenty  of  us  girls,  and  seven  young  gentlemen,  —  we  can't  get 
any  more  to  join  us,  —  and  they  are  to  dress  entirely  in  black 
frock-coats,  black  vests,  and  white  cravats  and  gloves ;  and  we 
girls  are  to  wear  a  scarlet  rosette  on  the  left  breast,  made  in  the 
form  of  a  Greek  cross,  and  sashes  of  the  same  color.  Lady  Di. 
and  the  bishops  are  to  arrange  the  order  in  which  we  shall  come 
in.  Won't  it  be  nice  ?  " 

"  Is  this  matter  of  color  important  ?  "  asked  Gertrude. 

The  young  Jesuit  standing  beside  Netta,  seeing  her  at  a  loss, 
replied  for  her :  "  The  Church,  madam,  employs,  in  her  vestments 
and  napkins,  five  colors.  On  the  feast-days  of  our  Lord  and  the 


OF  THE  FIVE  SACRED  COLORS.         225 

Blessed  Virgin  she  makes  use  of  white;  on  the  Pentecost,  Apos 
tles'  and  Martyrs'  days,  she  employs  green,  and  usually  on 
Sundays  it  is  green.  On  penitential  days  it  is  black.  Then, 
there  are  red  and  purple,  that  are  used  for  other  seasons." 

"I  am  so  glad  next  Sunday  the  color,  as  set  down  in  the 
calendar,  is  white ! "  said  Netta.  "  The  flowers  in  the  vases 
will  be  white,  and  we  shall  be  all  in  white ;  and  it  will  be  so 
sweet !  And  then  the  rosettes  and  sashes  will  make  such  a  pretty 
contrast !  "  said  the  young  girl. 

The  Jesuit  shook  his  head,  and  looked  very  solemn  and  per 
plexed.  "I  am  fearful  the  bishop  has  been  misled  by  you, 
young  ladies,  and  he  does  not  realize  that  in  pleasing  you  he 
has  changed  the  usages  of  the  church." 

"  No  such  thing  !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  "  for  he  said  he  had 
found  authority  for  it ;  for  this  was  a  Pentecostal  season,  and 
red  was  the  color  for  that  day ;  and  he  said  he  would  allow  us  a 
sash  and  rosette  of  scarlet ;  "  and,  turning  to  Frank,  she  con 
tinued,  "  I  'm  sure,  if  the  cardinals  are  allowed  to  wear  scarlet 
cloaks,  we  may  wear  scarlet  sashes." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Frank.  "  I  've  read  somewhere,  in  some 
book,  where  the  church  is  spoken  of  as  a  lady  dressed  in 
scarlet." 

The  Jesuit  beau  of  Netta  Hook  scanned  Frank  with  a  look 
of  distrust ;  but  the  incertitude  of  his  mind  was  dispelled  by  the 
coming  up  of  Bishop  Highandry,  whose  pleasure  at  seeing  our 
pilgrims  was  most  genial.  He  took  Gertrude's  hand  in  his 
with  that  pastoral  air  which  permits  a  bishop  to  make  a  dump 
ling  of  a  soft  hand,  while  he  made  many  inquiries  of  her  health, 
the  manner  in  which  the  atmosphere  of  the  city  affected  her. 


226  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

and  expressed  his  pleasure  at  seeing  her  at  this  delightful  party. 
He  put  his  finger  playfully  under  the  chin  of  Netta  Hook,  and 
told  her  to  perform  her  part  well.  He  also  graciously  invited 
our  friends  to  take  a  seat  in  his  pew  on  the  next  Sunday.  He 
then  relinquished  Gertrude's  hand  with  a  soft  pressure,  bowed, 
and  passed  on.  This  little  scene  quieted  the  fears  of  the  young 
deacon. 

It  was  one  o'clock  before  the  party  broke  up,  and  every  one, 
in  leaving  Lady  Di.,  expressed  their  delight  at  being  so  favored 
as  to  have  shared  in  her  delightful  party ;  as  is  common  to  be 
said  on  all  occasions,  if  anything  be  said,  in  leave-taking. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

AN    INCIDENT    AT    MRS.    MOLES  WORTH 'S   DINNER-PARTY. 

% 

THE  next  day,  as  our  ladies  were  about  to  ride  out,  Lord 
Shallbeso  called,  to  whom  they  told  all  their  last  night's  experi 
ences.  He  was  amazingly  pleased  at  the  success  of  Mrs. 
Proudfit. '  He  said  Sir  Henry  had  been  enlisted  to  go  with  her 
to  Lady  Di.'s  party,  but  the  Molesworths  having,  by  some  leaky 
servant,  got  wind  of  this,  made  great  efforts  so  to  manage  mat 
ters  that  he  should  not  go.  The  dinner  they  gave  Sir  Henry 
was  first  delayed,  and  then  prolonged  to  a  late  hour.  Sir  Henry 
was  greatly  embarrassed  by  having  two  ladies  upon  his  hands  at 
the  same  time ;  for  Mrs.  Molcsworth  had  enlisted  a  beautiful 


MRS.   PROUDFIT  AND   SIR   HENRY  FOX.  227 

girl  and  a  young  witching  widow  to  sit  beside  him,  and  by  no 
means  to  let  him  escape.  They  neither  wanted  talent  nor  inter 
est  in  the  part  they  were  to  play ;  and  everything  was  going  on 
well,  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  dessert,  a  little  bustle  was  heard 
at  the  door,  and  Mrs.  Proudfit's  man  Harry  forced  his  way 
inside  the  dining-hall,  and,  in  a  clear  voice,  addressed  Sir 
Henry,  saying,  "  His  lady,  Mrs.  Proudfit,  was  at  the  door  in  her 
carriage  waiting  for  him."  This  was  carrying  the  citadel  by 
a  coup-de-main.  Sir  Henry  rose,  made  his  bow,  and  retired 
before  Mrs.  Molesworth  or  her  adjuncts  had  time  to  recover 
their  wits. 

"  Please  tell  us,  my  lord,  who  is  the  Bishop  of  Turkey," 
asked  Annie.  "  To  me  he  has  a  most  repulsive  aspect.  I  don't 
like  his  looks." 

"  0,  what  an  eye  that  is  of  yours,  my  fair  lady  !  "  said  my 
lord.  "  This  bishop  is  a  man  of  some  note,  better  known  by  a 
surname  abroad  than  by  his  official  title,  a  sobriquet  not  so 
complimentary  as  appropriate.  With  him,  the  motto  '  No  faith 
to  be  kept  with  heretics  '  is  read  '  dissenters  ;  '  and  our  bishop 
made  rather  a  sharp  exegesis  of  the  text  '  Compel  them  to  come 
in,'  in  which  he  also  made  a  slight  change,  rendering  it,  '  Compel 
them  to  stay  in ; '  a  small  variation,  it  may  be,  in  the  reading, 
but  not  the  slightest  in  the  application ;  for  it  makes  but  little 
difference  to  a  man  for  what  he  is  bastinadoed,  plundered,  or 
beheaded,  so  it  be  done  in  fact." 

"  Pray,  did  the  House  of  Bishops  sanction  such  doings  ?  " 
asked  Annie,  with  her  eyes  wide  open  with  astonishment. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Mrs.  Outright,"  replied  the  lord,  "  bishops  are 
endowed  with  what  may  be  styled,  fittingly  and  properly,  '  Epis- 


228  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

copal  Infallibility.'  Now,  the  Bench  of  Bishops  never  give  up 
a  bishop  until  he  gives  himself  up.  While  he  stands  up  to  fight, 
they  fight  for  him.  The  common  people  have  a  proverb  applica 
ble  to  the  case  in  hand.  There  are,  my  friends,  canons  which 
are  pointed  so  as  to  bear  upon  bishops,  as  well  as  canons  for 
laymen ;  but,  whenever  these  bishop  canons  are  brought  into 
range,  they  are  found  to  have  been  spiked,  and  of  no  use  at 
all.  Pardon  me  for  my  abruptness,  but  my  object  in  calling 
was  to  ask  you  to  occupy  my  pew,  and  witness  the  confirmation 
scene  next  Sunday.  Will  you  allow  me  to  call  for  you  ?  "  asked 
my  Lord  Shallbeso. 

"  It  will  give  us  great  pleasure  to  go  with  you,  my  lord," 
replied  Annie. 

"  I  am  very  glad,"  said  Lord  Shallbeso ;  "  and,  now,  to  add 
to  my  obligations,  will  you  go  with  me  and  examine  a  gallery  of 
paintings  just  opened  ?  " 

This  invitation  they  also  accepted ;  and  the  whole  day  was 
spent  in  sight-seeing.  At  night,  as  they  sat  together,  waiting 
for  Oliver  and  Frank  to  come  in  from  a  dinner-party,  Gertrude 
spoke  to  Annie  these  words  :  "  What  dost  thou  here,  Elijah  ?  " 
Annie  shook  her  head.  She  dared  not  trust  herself  to  analyze 
her  innermost  thoughts.  In  everything  else  they  were  in  the 
habit  of  portraying  every  shade  of  feeling  to  each  other,  but  of 
this  one  great  thought  of  their  lives  they  kept  the  silence  of  the 
tomb. 


THE   CANDIDATES  FOR   CONFIRMATION.  229 

CHAPTER  XLY. 

THE   CONFIRMATION. 

LORD  SHALLBESO  called  for  our  ladies  at  ten  o'clock.  As 
the  morning  was  pleasant  and  bright,  they  walked  up  to  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Martyrs ;  and,  though  it  was  a  quarter  to 
eleven  when  they  entered,  the  church  was  full  of  people.  Seats 
for  this  solemn  occasion  were  reserved  in  the  front  of  the 
chancel  for  those  to  be  confirmed.  Lord  Shallbeso's  pew  was  on 
the  right  side  of  the  chancel ;  and  Lord  D.  and  lady,  and  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  P.,  had  theirs  on  the  left.  These  friends  were  already 
in  their  seats,  and  their  slightest  recognition  was  all  that  Mr. 
John  Brown  and  his  friends  regarded  as  re-churcha.  The  great 
organ  opened  its  thousand  throats,  when  from  out  of  a  side-door 
leading  to  the  vestry  a  procession  of  deacons  and  novices 
entered,  all  in  their  appropriate  costumes,  followed  by  the  young 
ladies  to  be  confirmed,  wearing  white  veils  which  covered  their 
heads.  These  were  grasped  by  the  left  hand,  and  in  their  right 
each  held  a  crimson  velvet-covered  prayer-book,  which  was 
pressed  to  the  left  breast,  without  any  other  ornament  than 
gold  crosses,  five  inches  long,  hanging  down  to  the  knee,  and 
fastened  by  a  rope  of  silk  from  the  waist,  which  ended  in  long 
rich  tassels  in  front.  They  certainly  did  look  sweetly  pious,  and, 
as  the  young  lady  had  said,  "  nun-like ; "  but,  for  some  suffi 
cient  reason,  the  scarlet  sashes  and  rosettes  were  not  worn.  It 
was  said  that,  on  further  consideration,  the  bishop  thought  that 
to  wear  them  would  be  regarded  as  an  innovation  on  the  customs 
of  the  church.  As  for  the  young  fellows  that  followed  these 
20 


230  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

angel  forms  of  light  and  beauty,  they  were  dressed  in  black,  and 
canie  in  with  their  heads  bowed  down,  holding  their  prayer-books 
to  their  chins,  looking,  for  all  the  world,  like  condemned  crimi 
nals  who  were  about  to  listen  to  their  last  sermon  before  being 
executed.  They  did  as  well  as  they  knew  how,  acting  awkwardly 
and  ill  at  ease ;  while  the  sweet  girls  sat  like  angels  in  marble. 

Lord  Shallbeso  had  his  own  thoughts  on  the  occasion,  and  was 
wanting  to  share  them  with  Annie ;  but  she  would  n't  let  him 
have  her  ear  for  a  single  whisper. 

The  organ  died  away  in  the  distance  of  seeming  miles,  and  the 
last  faint  note  was  heard,  when  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop 
Highandry  arid  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop  of  Turkey  came  out 
in  their  robes  and  lawn  sleeves,  leading  a  dozen  priests  in  white 
surplices,  who,  with  a  kind  of  skipping  step,  symbolizing  David 
dancing  before  the  ark,  ascended  to  the  high  places  of  the  sanc 
tuary,  which  were  not  reached  without  various  intricate  evolutions 
and  zig-zag  movements.  The  altar  around  which  they  kneeled 
was  ornamented  with  white  flowers.  The  napkins  and  other 
altar-cloths  were  white.  "  The  bloodless  sacrifice  "  was  set  upon 
a  side-table,  known  to  the  initiated  as  the  "  Credence  Table," 
covered  with  a  credence  cloth,  on  which  were  embroidered  in  white 
silver  the  symbols  of  the  Passion.  Great  candles  were  burning 
within  the  chancel  and  upon  the  altar  ;  and  most  necessary  they 
were  to^  dispel  the  cell-like  gloom  of  the  chancel.  AVhen  the 
creed  was  recited,  every  knee  and  head  did  bow ;  and,  as  Lord 
Shallbeso  assured  them  with  all  gravity  the  next  day,  "  the 
height  of  churchmanship  was  told  by  the  lowliness  of  the  bow, 
just  as  the  deflection  of  the  bob  of  an  electrometer  from  a  per 
pendicular  shows  the  strength  of  the  current  of  electricity.  No 


THE  BISHOP'S  SERMON.  231 

surer  test  is  known,  and  none  regarded  so  satisfactory  of 
churchmanship."  The  services  were  as  artistic  as  they  could  be 
made,  and  seemed  to  be  endless ;  for  everything  in  the  prayer- 
book  was  said  or  sung,  connected  with  the  services  for  the  day. 
The  Right  Reverend  Bishop  of  Turkey  preached  from  the  text, 
"  I  beseech  you,  therefore,  brethren,  by  the  mercies  of  God, 
present  your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy  and  acceptable  unto 
the  Lord,  which  is  your  reasonable  service."  The  bishop  enforced 
the  text.  The  sacrifice  of  faith  was  the  offering  up  of  our 
bodies  ;  the  body  was  the  temple.  It  was  the  outward  expres 
sion  of  the  inward  grace  conferred  in  baptism,  nourished  and  fed 
by  the  rites  of  the  holy  church.  .It  began  with  Abel ;  it  was  at 
the  altar  he  made  his  reverence  and  was  accepted.  It  was 
at  the  altar  Job  offered  up  his  burnt-offerings  for  his  sins.  It 
was  at  the  altar  upon  Mount  Moriah  that  Abraham  worshipped. 
It  was  at  the  altar  in  Bethel  Jacob  worshipped,  and  at  the  altar 
in  Beersheba  that  Isaac  knelt;  and  "time,"  he  said,  "would 
fail  to  show  forth  all  the  teachings  of  Holy  Scripture  by  which 
<ihe  bloody  sacrifice  on  Calvary  is  to  be  renewed  in  the  bloodless 
sacrifice  of  our  altars."  He  dwelt  a  long  time  on  posture-wor 
ship,  especially  bowing  in  the  creed,  as  being  in  the  true  spirit 
of  the  Rubric,  though  not  expressly  laid  down,  only  because  of  its 
universal  prevalence  at  that  day,  when  a  neglect  of  so  graceful, 
natural,  and  fitting  expression  of  devotion,  did  not  present  itself 
to  the  minds  of  the  fathers  of  our  church  as  possible.  "  Those 
were  days,"  he  said,  "  when  Dissent  had  not  reared  its  hydra 
heads,  and  bishops  were  still  regarded  as  apostles,  each  in  his  own 
proper  sphere  sent  out  to  feed  the  church  of  God."  # 

*  See  Bishop  DOANE'S  Missionary  Bishop,  page  22.    The  Rev.  Dr. 


232  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

The  sermon  came  to  an  end,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief 
our  ladies  rose  to  unite  in  singing  the  doxology.  Then  followed 
the  ceremony  of  Confirmation. 

But  everything  has  an  end ;  and  so  has  the  morning  service 
at  a  high  church.  The  feeling  ,of  relief  was  universal ;  and, 
while  the  vast  multitude  gradually  won  their  way  down  the 
aisles,  the  great  organ  was  filling  the  vault  with  its  harmonies 
and  strains  of  gladness. 

"  This  is  certainly  a  very  fashionable  audience,"  whispered  a 
lady  to  another,  in  the  hearing  of  Annie. 

"  I  never  saw  one  more  so,"  was  the  reply. 

"  The  music  was  very  fine  to-day,"  whispered  another  lady. 

"  Charming  !  "  was  the  reply. 

C.  M.  Butler,  now  of  Christ  Church,  Cincinnati,  in  his  admirable  tract, 
published  by  Stamford  and  Swords,  New  York,  1850,  entitled  "  Old  Truths 
and  New  Errors,"  p.  171,  has  shown  up  the  worthlessness  of  such 
claims  to  apostolical  powers  with  great  learning  and  entire  success. 

Dr.  Butler  thus  cites  the  great  Roman  Catholic  authority,  Bellarmine  : 
"The  bishops  have  no  part  of  the  true  apostolic  authority."  —  p.  40. 

As  to  this  revival  of  bowing  at  the  name  of  Jesus  in  reciting  the 
creed,  which  in  itself  is  a  very  little  matter,  with  very  little  meaning  in 
it,  and  about  which  so  much  is  now  said  in  certain  circles,  it  fell  into  dis 
use  at  the  time  of  the  Reformation.  It  was  the  custom,  every  time  the 
name  of  Jesus  was  uttered  in  the  church,  for  the  head  to  be  inclined 
and  the  feet  shuffled,  making  so  much  noise  that  the  reformers  of  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  church,  who  wanted  their  sermons  heard,  to  whom, 
the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  was  neither  foolishness,  nor  their  ser 
mons  foolish  preaching,  being  so  annoyed  by  this  bobbing  the  head  and 
shuffling  of  the  feet,  they  put  an  end  to  it,  as  a  foolish  vestige  of 
Popery.  And  now  it  is  renewed  with  unction  and  zeal,  and  made  a  test 
of  churchmanship  ! 


PROFESSOR   LACY.  233 

"  What  a  horrid  bore  a  sermon  is  !  "  said  the  last  lady. 

"  Please  don't  sa,y  so  till  we  get  home,"  was  the  reply. 

And  so  it  was ;  there  were  few  of  that  large  audience  who 
did  not  rejoice  to  see  the  sun  shine  on  the  outside  of  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Martyrs  on  that  Sunday  morning. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

PROFESSOR  LACY'S  PLAN  TO  RECOVER  THE  ODOR  OF  SANCTITY. 

OUR  readers  are  prepared  for  some  events  to  be  made  public, 
from  the  conversation  held  at  Lady  Di.'s  party  between  Doctor 
Whitecloth  and  Rev.  Mr.  Lavender. 

About  the  time  of  which  we  write,  the  High  Church  party  at 
Vanity  Fair  had  been  greatly  distressed  by  scandals  affecting 
the  sanctity  of  the  priesthood.  The  novitiates  and  theologues, 
together  with  the  pietistic  young  ladies,  whom  we  have  described 
as  being  the  chiefest  of  the  attractions  of  Lady  Di.'s  party,  had 
met  often  to  deplore  the  desolations  of  the  church.  Indeed,  the 
topics  discussed  naturally  led  them  to  speak  of  matters  demand 
ing  the  greatest  possible  delicacy. 

But  most  of  all  were  the  divinity  professors  in  the  college  of 
theology  alive  to  the  momentous  bearings  of  scandal  flying  on 
eagles'  wings  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  diocese.  The 
question  was  often  mooted,  long  and  anxiously,  how  to  regain  the 
odor  of  sanctity.  They  had  found  the  clergy  and  laity  belong 
ing  to  the  old  High-and-Dry  party  in  the  church  contented  with 
20* 


234  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

the  condition  of  the  diocese,  and  having  no  wish  to  act  in  the 
aggressive  upon  sectaries  around  them.  From  this  lethargy 
they  had  at  last  roused  their  associates  in  the  ministry  and 
their  flocks ;  and  when  in  full  tide  of  success  a  most  notable 
event  had  taken  place. 

Doctor  Lacy  was,  at  the  present  time,  chief  among  the  faculty 
of  theology.  He  was  deeply  read  in  patristic  lore  ;  nor  was  he 
unacquainted  with  the  Jesuit  fathers.  It  was  at  his  request  the 
clergy  and  faculty  of  the  city  convened  in  the  library  of  the 
college,  to  take  into  consideration  matters  of  moment  affecting 
the  best  interests  of  the  diocese,  and  to  recover,  if  possible,  the 
lost  odor  of  sanctity. 

It  would  probably  occur  to  most  of  our  readers  that  the  rules 
of  discipline  laid  down  by  the  great  Head  of  the  church  and  his 
apostles  would  have  been  first  resorted  to.  But  it  was  not  deemed 
rubrical  to  go  beyond  the  Canons  and  Rubrics.  If  there  was 
nothing  to  be  found  there  suitable  to  the  crisis,  then  what  next 
was  to  be  done  ?  Now,  they  were  fearful,  above  all  things  else, 
of  lessening  the  power  vested  in  the  church  dignitaries.  The 
teaching  of  St.  Ignatius  the  first,  which  resembles  in  all 
respects  those  of  the  modern  St.  Ignatius,  is  explicit  in  this. 
He  says :  "  Submit  yourselves  to  the  Bishop  as  to  the  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."* 

The  question  was  one  of  great  perplexity.  The  supremacy  of 
a  bishop  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  honor  of  the  church  on  the 
other.  These  were  to  be  reconciled  without  injury  to  either. 

*  Ep.  of  Ignatius  to  the  Magnesians,  chapter  i.,  verse  6,  and  chapter 
IV.,  verse  6. 


A  MEETING   OF  THE   CLERGY.  235 

Dr.  Lacy  had  discovered  John  de  Lugo,  a  great  casuist  doctor, 
teaching  that  the  offences  charged  upon  their  diocesan  were 
nothing  more  than  "  acts  of  impulse ; "  and  these,  he  affirms, 
"  are  not  sins  at  all,  or  at  most  but  a  philosophical  sin." 

It  was  early  in  the  spring  when  this  conclave  of  the  clergy  met 
in  the  college  library,  —  a  large  room,  built  of  oak,  with  stained 
lanceolate  windows,  showing  the  symbols  of  the  church  in  appro 
priate  colors,  and  with  a  ceiling  something  like  the  drop  ceilings 
of  the  dark  ages.  It  certainly  was  a  dark  room  for  a  library ; 
but  so  strangely  fascinated  were  these  churchmen  with  the  study 
of  ecclesiological  architecture,  that  the  end  for  which  this  room 
was  built  was  all  but  defeated  by  the  mode  of  its  construction. 
The  shelving  was  filled  with  books,  and  along  the  floor  were  great 
tomes,  with  dark,  ribbed  backs,  or  of  dingy  parchment,  which  told 
of  the  centuries  that  had  passed  over  them. 

The  faculty  and  clergy  now  assembled  sat  each  in  his  oaken 
chair,  as  uncomfortable  as  they  could  well  be ;  but  they  were 
after  the  most  approved  scholastic  models ;  and,  we  doubt  not, 
had  the  ghost  of  St.  Anselm,  or  the  "Venerable  Bede,"  walked 
into  the  apartment,  it  would  have  believed  this  library-room 
to  belong  to  its  own  age. 

Professor  Lacy,  seeing  all  around  were  looking  toward  him, 
rose,  with  a  solemnity  of  manner  which  belongs  to  the  aesthetics 
of  the  church ;  for  every  movement  was  with  him  a  study.  It 
must  be  acknowledged  that  in  all  this  he  excelled ;  the  voice,  its 
inflections,  and  the  gestures,  were  all  churchman-like.  He  spoke 
as  follows  : 

"  BRETHREN  :  In  a  conjuncture  of  affairs  in  this  diocese,  new, 
and  painful  as  new,  I  have,  with  the  concurrence  of  my  fellows 


236  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

in  the  faculty  of  theology,  called  you  together  for  aid  and  counsel. 
Something  must  be  done !  I  need  not  tell  you,  brethren,  that 
our  pure  gold  has  become  dim.  We  want  to  know  how  best  to 
restore  it  to  its  lustre.  "We  all  feel  that  the  odor  of  sanctity 
has  exhaled,  and  we  ask,  how  is  that  delicate  perfume  to  be 
recovered  ?  " 

Now,  the  wisest  men  of  Castile  were  never  more  gravelled  than 
by  the  enigma  propounded  by  Columbus  ;  nor  could  their  dubiety 
and  perplexity  have  been  surpassed  by  these  doctors  of  divinity 
at  this  time.  Professor  Lacy  had  taken  his  seat.  The  very 
metaphors  he  used,  of  themselves,  suggested  impossibilities.  It 
was  all  as  the  professor  wished  and  expected ;  and,  having  enjoyed 
the  grave  perplexity  of  his  associates,  he  once  more  rose,  greatly 
to  their  relief,  and  spoke  thus  : 

"  Brethren,  I  say  again,  something  must  be  done !  —  some 
thing  surprising,  startling,  and  convincing.  We  need  to  do  some 
thing  which  shall  establish  our  claim  to  Catholic  unity,  and  strike 
awe  into  the  hearts  of  those  who  are  now  gainsayers.  These  must 
become  convinced  amidst  the  wonders  of  Catholic  piety,  or  gaze, 
and  wonder,  and  perish.  Brethren,  we  have  done  much  within  a 
few  years.  Our  claims  over  the  consciences  of  the  people  have 
been  recognized  in  a  good  degree,  and  we  need  now  to  subdue  the 
incorrigible  arrogancy  of  a  Romish  schismatical  priesthood,  so  as 
to  compel  them  to  acknowledge  an  unity  in  the  One  Faith  of  the 
One  Catholic  Church.  This  denial  on  their  part  is  offensive,  I 
won't  say  to  Christian  charity,  for  'that  is  a  truism,  but  to  the 
amenities  and  courtesies  of  good  society.  Do  we  not  wear  a  garb 
not  unlike  their  own  ?  Have  we  not  conformed,  so  far  as  our 
Rubrics  can  be  compelled  into  conformity  ?  And  in  many  of  our 


ST.    CHRYSOSTOM  AND    THE   LADIES.  237 

churches  we  have  vases  of  flowers  and  lighted  candles  upon  our 
altars ;  we  intone  our  prayers ;  we  sing  the  creed,  and  the  psalms, 
and  the  litany ;  and  in  our  sermons  we  teach  the  doctrines  known 
in  all  ages  as  Catholic.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  festivals  are  ob 
served, —  Lent  especially, —  and  we  on  Friday  abstain  from  flesh. 
I  am  aware,  brethren,  we  have  one  weak  spot,  one  point  of  con 
trast,  in  which  we  labor  at  a  great  disadvantage ;  " —  here  the 
doctor's  voice  became  tremulous,  and  he  was  compelled  to  apply 
his  pocket-handkerchief  to  his  nose  and  eyes.  "  I  am  sure  I  need 
not  go  on ;  there  are  none  present  who  need  any  prompting  of 
mine  to  see  where  my  thoughts  tend."  He  paused  once  more. 

"  I  trust  Doctor  Lacy  will  speak  out  plainly ;  for  I  do  not,  for 
one,  comprehend  his  remarks."  This  was  spoken  by  Doctor 
Goodhue,  a  fair,  ruddy,  well-fed  gentleman.  Other  gentlemen, 
not  so  obtuse,  begged  Professor  Lacy  to  proceed.  They  said  they 
had  been  extremely  interested  in  his  remarks,  and  hoped  he 
would  proceed. 

"  I  have  said,"  continued  Professor  Lacy,  "  that,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Romish  schism,  all  we  have  done  is  as  nothing,  while  we 
retain  and  cherish  what  St.  Chrysostom  has  characterized  as 
'  that  necessary  mischief,  that  desirable  calamity,  that  delectable 
infelicity,  —  a  wife ! '  #  Yes,  brethren,  t his  is  our  stone  of  stum 
bling,  this  our  rock  of  offence.  When  we  contrast  our  crucifixions 
of  the  flesh  with  theirs,  we  must  ourselves  confess  the  world-wide 
difference  between  their  sacraments  and  ours,  between  their  celib 
acy  and  our  —  "  He  paused.  "  I  dare  not  speak  the  word  which 
suggests  itself  to  my  mind  as  alliterative  and  proper.  For  one, 
I  confess  their  superiority ;  and  I  think  we  may  all  apply  to  our- 

*  St.  Chrysostom  on  Matthew  19  :  11. 


238  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

selves  those  words  addressed  to  the  sleeping  disciples."  Here 
the  professor  paused  again  for  an  instant.  "  Again  I  say,  some 
thing  must  be  done ;  and  I  think  I  have  found  the  solution  of 
this  inquiry.  My  brethren,  it  is  all  expressed  in  one  word,  — 
flagellation ! " 

The  faces  of  the  reverend  clergy  had  gradually  darkened  down 
as  the  professor  had  gone  on  contrasting  the  superiority  of  the 
Jesuits  and  Romish  priesthood  with  themselves,  until  they  all 
wore  a  sour,  severe  expression ;  but,  when  he  uttered  the  word 
"  flagellation,"  more  than  one"pisk!"  testified  their  contempt 
and  repugnance,  and  most  of  them  hung  their  heads  in  disap 
pointment.  Professor  Lacy  saw  all  this ;  but  his  courage  rose 
with  the  occasion. 

"Listen,  my  respected  and  reverend  friends  and  brethren! 
Listen  to  me !  Fear  not  to  be  just  to  my  cause ;  nay,  not 
mine,  but  yours.  Human  nature  never  changes.  Man  in  all 
ages  is  the  same ;  subject  to  like  passions,  swayed  by  like  mo 
tives  ;  and  the  church,  by  a  proper  use  of  appliances  always  at 
hand,  may  yet  awe  the  world  into  fear  and  submission.  Rise, 
my  friends,  to  the  confident  belief  of  what  you  all  profess,  that 
unto  you  are  committed  the  keys  of  death  and  hell,  and  then  you 
will  be  inspired  with  a  courage  that  shall  be  made  manifest  to 
the  consciences  of  men,  and  our  control  will  be  all  we  ask  for,  all 
we  desire. 

"  Reverend  Fathers  and  Gentlemen,  I  have  already  said, 
like  moral  causes  produce  like  results,  because  God  and  man 
never  change.  Now,  then,  hear  me  for  a  few  moments,  while  I  cite 
to  you  a  case  pertinent  to  our  condition.  I  refer  to  Godonius  of 
Coimbra.  Scandals  were  so  rife  in  his  day  that  the  Society  of 


THE  FLAGELLANTS  OF  ITALY.         289 

Jesus  had  become  a  by-word  of  reproach ;  when  that  great  man, 
baring  his  shoulders,  took  a  scourge  and  rushed  out  into  the 
street,  lashing  himself  without  mercy ;  and,  reaching  the  place  of 
chief  resort,  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and  cried,  '  Ye  nobles  and  men 
of  Coimbra !  pardon,  for  the  scourging  of  Christ,  pardon  what 
ever  offence  the  Society  of  Jesus  has  given  you  ! '  The  results 
were  wonderful.  The  entire  multitude  of  Coimbra  were  changed 
at  once  from  foes  to  friends.  Nor  did  it  end  here.  Exhibitions 
of  like  fervor  became  the  custom ;  and  the  licentious  passed  days 
and  nights  in  like  austerities,  and  in  sweet  contemplations  of 
God.^  Brethren,  I  cite  a  single  case ;  but  you  need  not  be  told 
of  the  holy  Flagellants  of  Italy,  who,  when  Italy  was  sunk  in 
sin,  came  by  thousands,  in  the  rigor  of  winter,  preceded  by 
priests  bearing  crosses  and  banners,  inspiring  the  hearts  of  all 
Italy  and  Germany  with  a  fearful  sense  of  the  wickedness  of  the 
times,  and  an  instant  looking  for  of  fiery  indignation."! 

Professor  Lacy  took  his  seat.  For  a  while  no  one  moved.  At 
length  Dr.  Goodhue,  whose  face  spoke  more  of  feasts  than  fasts, 
addressed  the  clergy  present. 

"  Brethren,  I  deprecate  any  such  recurrence  to  effete  usages 
of  the  Romish  party." 

"  Effete  !  "  cried  Professor  Lacy,  rising  to  his  feet.  "  Of  whom 
does  the  gentleman  speak  ?  Do  not  the  monks  of  Cassino  dis 
cipline  themselves  once  a  week  ?  —  the  Ursuline  nuns  on  every 
Friday?  —  the  Carmelite  nuns  on  Wednesdays  and  Fridays?  — 
the  English  Benedictines  and  Celestines  weekly?  —  and  the  order 
of  Capuchins  every  morning?  Indeed,  time  would  fail  me  to 

*  History  of  Jesuits,  by  Steinmetz,  vol.  I.,  p.  414. 
t  History  of  Flagellants,  p.  348. 


240  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

enumerate  the  usages  of  the  various  orders.  And  is  a  custom  so 
general,  and  in  such  high  repute,  to  be  called  effete  ?  " 

"  No  matter,  my  dear  sir,"  continued  Dr.  Goodhue,  who  had 
held  his  position  on  the  floor ;  "I  repeat,  I  don't  go  for  the  res 
toration  of  monkish  stupidities  and  cruelties  among  us.  I  do  not 
believe  in  this  abuse  of  the  body." 

Dr.  Goodhue  having  taken  his  seat,  Professor  Lacy  spoke 
across  the  room  from  his  chair  :  "  I  think  no  one  will  attribute 
that  to  you,  sir ! "  And  then,  rising  to  his  feet,  "  Brethren," 
said  the  professor,  "  does  not  St.  Paul  expressly  say,  *  I  chastise 
rny  body  to  keep  it  under '  ?  or,  as  St.  Irenseus  and  also  Father 
Gretza  render  it,  '  I  render  my  body  livid.'  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Dr.  Crusty,  one  of  the  faculty,  "  there  is  suf 
ficient  testimony  —  scriptural  testimony —  in  favor  of  flagellation 
in  the  Miserere  *  and  De  Profundis ;  t  such,  certainly,  was  the 
opinion  of  St.  Austin." 

And  now  some  members  of  the  conclave  spoke  as  if  doubtful, 
while  others  seemed  favorable  to  the  careful  consideration  of  this 
suggestion ;  and,  after  discussion,  Dr.  Goodhue  was  appealed  to, 
and  asked  if  he  did  not  regard  this  plan  as  one  which  might  be 
entertained  on  the  ground  of  expediency. 

"  I  am  not  satisfied.  Nothing  as  yet  said  weighs  a  feather's 
weight  with  me.  St.  Austin  may  have  been  good  authority  in 
other  days,  but  he  is  not  in  these,"  Dr.  Goodhue  replied. 

"  Perhaps,  Dr.  Goodhue,  you  would  not  believe  though  one 
rose  from  the  dead !  "  cried  out  Professor  Lacy. 

The  amiable,  doctor  smiled,  and  replied :  "I  cannot  say, 
brethren,  what  a  ghost  might  do;  but  I  believe  I  shall  wait  till 

*  51st  Psalm.  1 130th  Psalm. 


THE    COLLOQUY    OF   THE    CLERGY.  241 

I  see  one.  But,  there  is  Brother  Crusty,  who  shows  some  flesh 
and  blood  under  his  broad  waistband,  —  if  he  chooses  to  bare  his 
back,  and,  with  a  cat-o '-nine-tails,  go  down  into  Change  Alley, 
making  his  blood  flow  down  to  his  heels  for  the  odor  of  sanctity 
thereupon  to  accrue  to  our  church,  I  arn  content.  All  I  can 
say  is  this  —  I  shall  not  follow  his  example ;  and  more  —  this 
flogging  one's  self  for  one's  own  edification  I  have  no  faith  in, 
notwithstanding  all  the  authorities  cited  in  this  discussion  in 
favor  of  it.  But,  as  to  flogging  myself  because  an  eminent 
personage  richly  merits  a  flogging,  that  is  to  me  the  height  of 
absurdity." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  Dr.  Whitecloth,  "  that  we  are  to 
share  in  this  public  discipline.  I  think  all  we  are  called  upon 
to  do  is,  to  sanction  it  with  our  presence." 

"  Who  is  to  bell  the  cat  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Goodhue.  "  I  venture 
to  make  this  inquiry,  in  allusion  to  the  embarrassment  of  a  con 
clave  in  Esop's  days,  like  the  present,  which  sat  under  somewhat 
similar  circumstances.  The  post  of  honor,"  he  continued,  "  be 
longs  to  Professor  Lacy.  I  think  no  one  of  us  will  be  likely 
to  challenge  his  claim  to  lead  the  forlorn  hope  in  this  novel 
assault.  And  let  me  ask,  before  I  sit  down,  '  Where  shall  we 
find  penitents  ? '  Has  that  idea  ever  suggested  itself  before  ?  " 

Professor  Lacy  rose,  in  a  spirit  of  bitterness,  and  answered : 
"  We  shall  find  them  where  alone  we  hope  for  a  new  order  of 
pietists,  whose  devotion  will  shame,  if  it  were  possible  to  add  to 
the  crimson  on  the  cheeks  of  some  men,  dry  and  barren  olive- 
trees,  who,  holding  the  high  places  of  the  church,  care  nothing 
for  its  glory.  We  look,  brethren,  to  our  students,  our  neophytes, 
acolytes,  and  catechumens." 
21 


242  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Dr.  Goodhue  did  not  see  fit  to  reply ;  and  it  was  finally  agreed 
on  that  this  matter  should  be  left  entirely  to  the  Faculty  of 
Theology.  The  meeting,  however,  agreed  to  sanction  and  uphold 
by  their  presence  whatever  course  of  proceeding  they  should 
adopt  —  with  the  dissenting  voices  of  Dr.  Goodhue,  Dr.  Blood- 
good,  and  a  few  men  who  felt  that  they  had  nothing  to  gain, 
and  some  respectability  to  lose.  Such  was  the  action  of  the 
conclave,  which  was  now  dissolved  sine  die. 


CHAPTER  XLYII. 

A    NEW    ORDER   OF    HOLY   INNOCENTS    CREATED. 

PROFESSOR  LACY  and  his  associates,  having  obtained  all  they 
desired  of  the  clergy,  at  once  began  to  work  upon  the  docile 
minds  of  the  neophytes ;  nor  were  the  pretty  pietists,  of  whom 
we  have  spoken,  forgotten.  Indeed,  these  young  girls  were 
expected  to  be  the  most  efficient  of  all  instrumentalities  to  make 
this  experiment  successful. 

The  young  gentlemen  were  set  to  reading  the  lives  of  saints, 
written  by  Theodoret,  Palladius,  and  the  very  eminent  Cardinal 
Damian  ;  all  which  exhibit  the  zeal  of  priests  and  deacons,  who 
vied  with  St.  Dominic  the  cuirassed,  St.  Anselm,  and  the  Abbot 
Poppo,  in  severity  in  these  most  "  meritorious  exercises."  Nor 
Were  those  eminent  ladies,  St.  Maria  of  Ognia,  St.  Hardwigge, 
and  the  widow  Cechald,  forgotten.  Indeed,  they  became  objects 
of  pietistic  admiration ;  and  the  young  ladies  were  quite  fervent 


ORDER  OF  HOLY  INNOCENTS.         243 

in  their  zeal  to  follow  their  examples.  But  Professor  Lacy  and 
his  friends  suggested  that  they  could  do  the  best  possible  service 
by  enlisting  their  admirers ;  and  it  was  proposed  that  there 
should  be  created  a  new  order  in  the  church,  to  be  called  "  The 
Order  of  Holy  Innocents  ;  "  and  that  every  lady  should  have  her 
own  gentleman,  and  they  should  act  together  for  the  attainment 
of  one  aim  and  end.  Now,  nothing  could  be  more  delightful 
than  this.  We  doubt  if  St.  Ignatius  would  not  have  adopted 
this  as  a  part  of  his  plan,  had  he  lived  in  our  day.  The  flame  01 
enthusiasm  was  wonderful.  Every  young  lady  was  ambitious  of 
being  one  of  the  Holy  Innocents ;  and,  to  do  this,  she  must  have 
her  representative  ;  for  the  word  love  and  lover  were  never  to  be 
spoken.  It  was  sometimes  signified  by  cavalier,  or  knight.  But 
love  was  eschewed  entirely ;  for  that  was  too  common  and  vul 
gar.  The  young  gentlemen  had  not  much  to  complain  of,  for 
they  were  petted  to  the  utmost  by  these  girls. 

It  was  whispered,  under  a  veil  of  mystery,  that  the  first 
appearance  of  the  order  of  Holy  Innocents,  acting  as  penitents, 
would  come  off  on  the  third  of  May,  that  being  the  festival-day 
of  "  Finding  the  Cross,"  which  was  regarded  by  all  to  be  beauti 
fully  expressive ;  and  then  every  young  lady  belonging  to  this 
new  mystical  order  would  be  represented  by  her  own  penitent. 

This  was  a  secret  worth  knowing;  and  was  kept  from  "dis 
senters  "  with  greatest  care.  And  yet  there  was  a  difficulty  in 
keeping  it  entirely  a  secret ;  for  some  of  the  young  ladies  longed 
to  surprise  their  Romish  friends  into  an  acknowledgment  of 
Catholic  unity,  to  be  conquered  by  this  coup  d'eylise,  when  they 
should,  by  a  sort  of  holy  force,  be  compelled  to  count  them 
worthy  of  their  fellowship;  and  that  "The  Holy- Apostolic- 


244  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Anglo-Saxon-Protestant-American-Episcopal  Church "  was  part 
and  parcel  of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church.  A  most  amusing- 
piece  of  stultification,  not  confined  to  novices  and  young  girls. 
"  Bishops  and  other  clergy  "  have  often  shown  the  same  cringing 
subserviency,  if,  by  any  means,  the  long-sought-for  concession 
could  be  obtained. 


CHAPTER  XLYIII. 

OF    THE    "  DISCIPLINES  "    TO    BE    USED   BY    TUB    HOLY    INNOCENTS. 

AMONG  the  members  of  fashionable  society  with  whom  our 
pilgrims  formed  pleasant  acquaintanceship  were  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
May,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mead,  whose  residences  stood  on  the 
same  square.  These  ladies  were  cousins,  educated  under  widely 
different  methods.  They  were  Catholics,  and  good  Catholics. 
Mrs.  May  had  been  brought  up  at  a  fashionable  boarding-school, 
near  London ;  her  cousin,  Mrs.  Mead,  in  a  convent,  near  Paris. 
Their  husbands  were  men  of  wealth  and  leisure ;  devoted  to 
society  and  the  cultivation  of  their  elegant  tastes  in  the  arts. 
Both  were  painters,  and  performers  on  the  piano  and  the  violin, 
and  could  blow  a  blast  on  a  half-dozen  or  more  wind  instruments. 
It  is  curious  to  see  how  time  can  be  expended  by  men  who  have 
"  nothing  to  do  "  !  Their  wives  were  most  unlike,  and  yet  very 
lovely  in  themselves,  and  greatly  attached  to  each  other.  As  is 
usual,  they  sought  confessors  after  their  own  temperaments. 

Father  Cottin,  the  confessor  of  Mrs.  May,  was  a  man  of  wit, 
whose  love  of  the  world  was  ill-concealed  under  his  Jesuit  garb ; 


MRS.    MAT  AND   MRS.    MEAD.  245 

while  Father  Hildebrand  showed  himself  an  ascetic  at  a  glance. 
His  figure  was  tall,  and  his  thin  face  resembled  shrivelled  parch 
ment  ;  while  his  dark,  bright  eyes  gleamed  from  heavy,  over 
shadowing  eyebrows,  -like  coals  of  fire.  The  way  to  heaven, 
with  Father  Hildebrand,  was  rough  and  thorny ;  nor  could  he 
be  satisfied  that  he  himself,  or  his  penitents,  were  on  their  way 
thither,  while  there  was  a  pleasure  unchecked,  or  one  affection 
unmortified.  For  it  was  only  in  self-sacrifice  sincerity  of  devo 
tion  could  be  tested. 

One  sweet  day  in  April,  our  ladies  called  on  Mrs.  May,  to  ask 
her  to  ride  with  them  in  their  carriage  ;  and  she  sent  for  them 
to  come  up  into  her  boudoir,  —  an  elegant  apartment,  filled  with 
proofs  of  her  husband's  taste  and  love  of  art.  They  found  Mrs. 
May  at  work  at  a  little  table,  with  a  basket  of  cords  at  her  side. 
She  welcomed  them,  and  insisted  they  should  draw  up  seats  and 
sit  a  while  with  her ;  for,  as  she  was  too  much  occupied  to  go  out 
with  them,  she  said  they  must  stay  with  her.  They  did  so. 
And,  curious  to  know  what  Mrs.  May  was  doing,  they  examined 
her  work-basket.  It  contained  cords  of  the  size  of  a  little  finger 
(a  lady's  little  finger !)  cut  into  lengths  of  three  feet,  and  wove 
together  by  a  handle  a  foot  long ;  leaving  to  each  handle  four 
tails  two  feet  in  length.  These  were  tied  with  three  knots. 
Above  the  knot  (being  placed  there  before  the  knot  was  tied) 
was  a  star  stamped  out  of  tin-plate,  with  a  hole  in  the  centre, 
through  which  the  cord  was  slipped  before  the  knot  was  tied. 
These  sharp  points  Mrs.  May  was  engaged  in  covering  with 
crewel  of  various  colors. 

"  I  am  delighted,  ladies,  to  see  you.  You  will,  I  am  sure,  be 
21* 


246  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

glad  to  help  me,  it  is  such  rare  sport  I  am  engaged  in,"  said 
Mrs.  May. 

"  May  I  know  what  these  are  for  ?  "  asked  Gertrude,  holding 
up  one  of  the  cords  which  was  not  as  yet  wrapped. 

"  0  !  it  is  a  great  secret,  and  you  must  not  breathe  it  for  all  the 
world."  And,  rising,  Mrs.  May  ran  to  the  mantel-piece,  and  took 
down  a  silver  crucifix  with  Christ  on  the  cross  (a  gem  of  art). 
"  Kiss  the  cross,"  said  Mrs.  May,  holding  it  to  Gertrude's  face 
to  kiss,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  all." 

"  No,  dear  Mrs.  May,  I  don't  kiss  the  cross !  " 

"  0,  you  little  heretic  !  do  you  dare  reject  the  cross?  " 

"  I  never  have  kissed  a  cross,  and  I  never  shall,"  replied 
Gertrude,  with  a  troubled  face. 

"  Nay,  my  dear  lady,  don't  be  offended.  You  are  always  so 
serious,"  said  Mrs.  May,  tossing  the  crucifix  into  the  basket  of 
cords.  "  Though  you  are  such  heretics,  yet  I  know  I  can  trust 
you;  though,  I  can  tell  you,  there  are  ladies  of  '  our  set'  whose 
promise  I  would  not  trust  on  the  cross.  But,  to  be  very  serious 
indeed,  this  is  a  secret  —  a  very  great  secret !  " 

"  Dear  Mrs.  May,"  said  Annie,  who  held  one  of  the  cords  in 
her  hand,  "  pray  tell  us  what  these  mean.  Do  not  tease  us 
longer." 

"  With  all  readiness,  ladies,"  replied  Mrs.  May.  "  I  am  en 
gaged  at  this  moment,  strange  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  in  laboring 
as  I  best  may  for  the  advancement  of  that  poor  apology  for 
Catholic  faith,  the  High  Church  of  Vanity  Fair." 

"  You  !    0,  that  can't  be  !  "  cried  Annie. 

"  Ah !  you  think  me  too  good  a  Catholic,"  said  Mrs.  May. 
"  And  I  am  a  good  Catholic,  and  I  am  well  assured  you  will  put 


MRS.  MAY  AND   HER   CONFESSOR.  247 

no  bad  meaning  upon  my  words  when  I  say  '  pleasure-loving,' 
and  yet  a  good  Catholic.  Now,  there  is  my  dear  cousin  Lucille 
Mead,  who  disciplines  herself  every  day  in  order  to  get  rid  of  the 
devil ;  while  I  get  on  without  any  such  annoyance,  and,  indeed, 
never  have  so  much  as  a  single  temptation  to  distress  me." 

"  But  what  are  these  whips  for  ?  "What  good  are  they  to  do 
for  the  High  Church  folks  ?  "  asked  Annie,  impatiently. 

"  0,  yes !  Yes,  I  forgot  to  tell  you  this  grand  secret. 
Here  it  is.  The  pietists  of  the  High  Church  have  determined 
on  a  coup  d'eglise,  and  hope  to  take  the  city  of  Vanity  Fair 
by  storm.  And  this  they  are  to  do  by  disciplining  themselves 
before  the  world  in  open  daylight.  And  so  they  came  to 
Lucille,  who  is  known  to  be  a  saint,  to  borrow  her  discipline,  to 
make  others  like  it  on  behalf  of  their  lovers,  who  are  to  appear 
as  penitents.  Now,  Lucille  was  delighted  with  the  request ;  but, 
as  she  does  nothing  without  the  advice  of  Father  Hildebrand,  she 
asked  him  what  she  should  do  ;  and  he  would  by  no  means  con 
sent  that  these  naturals  should  flog  themselves  after  a  Catholic 
fashion.  I  heard  of  it,  and  offered  to  loan  them  my  discipline ;  * 
and  more,  that  I  would  help  make  them," 

"  Your  discipline  !  "  exclaimed  Annie  ;  "  and  have  you  a 
scourge  ?  " 

"  You  don't  think  me  a  good  Catholic,  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  May. 
"To  be  sure  I  have  a  discipline.  Now,  ladies,  don't  betray  me, 
and  I  will  show  it  to  you.  It  is  not  in  the  least  like  these  I  am 
making ;  but  here  it  is."  And  she  walked  up  to  her  dressing- 

*  Moliere's  Tartuffe  says  to  his  servant,  "  Here,  hang  up  my  discipline 
with  my  cloak  ;"  —  speaking  of  his  scourge. 


248  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

table,  and  took  from  a  drawer  a  whip  of  silk  of  the  length  of  the 
cords,  woven  into  a  handle  a  foot  long. 

There  was  not  a  single  knot  in  it ;  only  a  mass  of  silk  threads, 
which  enabled  her,  she  said,  "  to  surpass  St.  Dominic  himself  in 
the  number  of  stripes  she  inflicted  on  herself  on  days  of  penance." 
It  was  a  matter  of  surprise  to  witness  the  delicacy  of  Mrs.  May's 
discipline,*  compared  with  the  severity  of  those  she  was  working 
upon ;  and  Mrs.  May  at  once  saw  their  thoughts  pictured  upon 
their  faces. 

"  0,  dear  friends !  my  discipline  is  the  gift  of  Father  Cottin, 
and  these,  too,  are  his  manufacture,"  said  Mrs.  May.  "  We  are 
determined  these  penitents  shall  have  something  to  cry  over, 
unless  they,  as  some  wicked  Protestants  have  said  of  St.  Dom 
inic,  wear  a  cuirass  under  their  shirts.  They  shall  find  it  no 
child's  play,  this  playing  the  part  of  good  Catholics  —  heretics 
as  they  are  !  " 

"  And  when  does  this  wonderful  exhibition  of  piety  come  off?  " 
asked  Annie. 

"  That  is  a  secret  I  am  not  yet  let  into,"  said  Mrs.  May ; 
"  only  this  much  I  know ;  their  priests  have  hit  upon  this  new 
method  of  whitewashing  themselves,  and  I  am  to  have  all  these 
done  (the  whole  number  is  fifty)  by  the  first  of  May  next.  Won't 
these  be  cruel  ?  "  and,  saying  this,  Mrs.  May  held  up  one  of  the 
disciplines,  the  knots  of  which,  and  the  spurs,  were  covered  entirely 
with  soft  worsteds. 

"  Are  you  not  sinning  in  contriving  this  instrument  of  torture 

*  Boileau,  in  his  "  History  of  the  Flagellants,"  speaks  of  a  lady  whose 
discipline  was  made  of  the  tail  of  a  fox. 


FATHER  COTTIN'S  CUTANEOUS  PERSUADERS.      249 

to  be  inflicted  upon  poor  deluded  young  men?  "  asked  Ger 
trude. 

"  Sinning  !  "  cried  Mrs.  May,  laughing  ;  "  no,  no  !  Father 
Cottin  was  delighted  with  my  promise  to  supply  the  whips.  It 
was  he  that  made  them  all  himself — leaving  me  to  cover  these 
'  cutaneous  persuaders,'  as  he  calls  them." 

"Oil  think  it  is  very  wicked  in  you  both !  "  cried  Gertrude, 
with  a  shudder  at  the  idea  of  these  being  used  on  human 
backs. 

The  saying  offended  Mrs.  May.  It  arraigned  her  father 
confessor.  "  Pardon  me,  madam ! "  she  said,  and  her  gay 
tones  were  all  gone,  and  with  her  gay  tones  her  sprightliness  of 
manner.  "It  is  not  so  easy  for  a  Catholic  to  sin  as  you  sup 
pose  ;  especially  when  acting  under  the  direction  of  her  spiritual 
guide." 

"Forgive  me,  Mrs.  May;  I  did  not  mean  to  offend,"  said 
Gertrude,  in  a  very  meek,  deprecatory  tone. 

Mrs.  May  was  instantly  pacified,  and,  resuming  her  gay  tone, 
replied,  "  I  know  it !  I  know  it !  0  !  you  ought  to  be  a  good 
Catholic,  you  are  so  good.  And  it  is  very  hard  for  me  to  believe 
you  will  certainly  be  damned." 

"  Dear  me !  "  cried  Gertrude,  "  I  tremble  at  such  language 
applied  to  me ;  and  yet,  believing  as  you  do,  it  is  very  kind  in 
you  to  say  so." 

Mrs.  May  put  her  arms  round  Gertrude,  and  drew  her  loving 
ly  towards  her.  "  I  do  love  you,  Mrs.  Trueman ;  I  love  to  look 
into  your  sweet,  lovable  face.  You  would  make  one  of  the 
sweetest  of  saints,  if  you  would  only  be  a  Catholic.  0  !  it  is 
such  a  loss,  such  a  present  loss,  not  to  be  within  the  embrace  of 


250  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

our  Holy  Mother ;  then  you  would  know  how  easy  it  is  to  go  to 
the  Celestial  City." 

"  I  shall  never  change  my  opinion,"  said  Gertrude. 

"0,  yes,  but  you  may !  I  have  heard  others  say  the  same 
words,  but  they  have  changed.  Not  girls  and  boys,  either,  but 
bishops,  priests,  and  deacons,  by  the  score  ;  and  what  is  to  hinder 
you?"* 

Annie  spoke  up  :  "  My  dear  friend,  don't  let  us  open  a  con 
troversy  so  very  personal  as  this  may  become,  but  please  tell  me 
what  you  mean  when  you  say  '  It  is  not  so  easy  for  a  Catholic 
to  sin.'  Why  a  Catholic  more  than  us? " 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE    FAIR   PENITENT    OF    A    JESUIT.       HER    CODE    OF    MORALS. 

"  TAKE  your  seats  once  more,  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  May,  "  and 
I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  If  you  had  tasked  yourselves  you 
could  not  have  hit  upon  a  topic  I  love  so  well  to  talk  upon. 
Then,  too,  it  shows  my  great  learning ;  but,  to  tell  you  the  whole 
secret  at  once,  it  only  shows  you  what  a  rare  scholar  Father 
Cottin  has,  and  what  a  famous  casuist  he  is.  Now,  then,  for  a 
wonderful  display  of  my  talents  as  a  casuist,"  said  Mrs.  May, 
with  any  amount  of  drollery  of  manner.  "  And,  first,  you  must 
know  that  our  holy,  apostolic,  Catholic,  and  only  true  church, 

*  The  number  of  "  perverts  "  in  1853,  when  this  chapter  was  written, 
was  upwards  of  two  hundred  of  the  clergy  in  England  ;  the  number  in  this 
country  is  not  known  to  the  author. 


THE  PROBABILITIES.  251 

divides  sin  into  two  classes,  called  Venial  and  Mortal.  The  first 
are  easily  gotten  rid  of  by  penance ;  but  mortal  sins  are  very 
rare,  indeed,  among  us ;  for  our  greatest  doctors  teach  '  that 
when  we  have  a  probable  opinion  on  our  side  we  are  free  to  fol 
low  it,  let  it  lead  where  it  will ;  and  not  only  so,  but  the  doing 
so  is  safe,  and  the  practice  lawful.'  " 

"  What  is  a  probable  opinion,  and  what  makes  an  opinion 
probable  ?  "  asked  Annie., 

"  Ah !  yes !  that 's  the  question,  sure  enough,  and  let  me  see 
what  is  the  answer  to  that.  Ah !  yes,  I  remember ;  Escobar, 
who  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  all  our  casuists,  says,  '  A  single 
doctor  may  make  an  opinion  probable ;'  *  but  you  ask,  '  What  is 
a  probable  opinion  ?  '  Well,  then,  I  reply,  I  am  at  liberty  to  do 
anything  I  please,  for  which  I  think  I  have  a  probable  opinion, 
albeit  the  contrary  course  may  be  the  safer ;  but,  if  I  have  a 
doctor  on  my  side,  or  the  example  of  honest  men,  that  is  enough.! 
Now,  a  lady  must  be  very  dull  if  she  can't  find  some  casuist  who 
upholds  her  views,  or  some  honest  man  who  has  not  done  what 
she  has  a  mind  to  do.  0 !  you  have  no  idea  how  easy  it  is 
for  good  Catholics  to  live  joyously  in  this  world,  and  be  cer 
tain  of  joy  in  the  next;  for  Father  Cottin  tells  me  if  I 
please  I  may  'at  one  time  follow  one  probable  opinion, 
and  a  different  probable  opinion  at  another,  upon  the  same 
subject.'  £  And,  too,  Father  Cottin  says,  '  That  opinion  is  the 
more  probable  which  authorizes  the  less  probable  opinion  to  be 

*  So  Escobar,  in  Prooemio,  Ex.  3,  N.  8,  p.  24.  "  Morals  of  Jesuits," 
p.  113. 

t  So  Emanuel  Su.     Cited  by  "  Morals  of  Jesuits,"  p.  113. 

t  So  Tamburin.   Cited  by  "  Principles  of  Jesuits."    London  Ed.    1839. 


252  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

followed.'  *  And,  then,  as  it  is  sometimes  convenient,  especially 
for  ladies,  to  do  the  most  contradictory  things,  there  is  a  great 
doctor  who  meets  our  caprices  exactly ;  for  he  says,  *  He  does  not 
sin  who  follows  a  probable  opinion,  rejecting  an  opinion  more 
probable.'  What  could  be  more  desirable  ?  " 

"Now,  let  me  put  your  skill  to  the  test,"  said  Annie  ;  "  how 
do  you  save  your  conscience  from  upbraiding  you  with  cruelty  in 
covering  up  these  instruments  of  torture,  to  be  inflicted  on  those 
whose  only  fault  is  their  stupidity  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  dear  lady,"  replied  Mrs.  May,  musingly,  "  I  have 
not  thought  of  that,  upon  my  word ;  but,"  and  she  brightened  up 
as  the  thought  came  into  her  mind,  "  I  rather  think  the  scourging 
these  young  men  will  give  themselves  will  be  useful,  it  being  in 
the  spring  of  the  year,  on  the  score  of  health.  That  is  certainly  a 
possibility,  and,  therefore,  a  probability,  and  quite  enough  to 
save  me  and  my  conscience  from  all  harm.  Now,  don't  you  see, 
Mrs.  Outright,  how  very  hard  it  is  for  a  Catholic  to  commit  a 
mortal  sin  ?  " 

"  Ah!  "  replied  Annie,  "  but  St.  James  teaches,  'Whosoever 
shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet  offend  in  one  point,  he  is  guilty 
of  all.'  " 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Outright,  I  was  thinking  of  this  very  text,"  said 
Mrs.  May ;  "  and,  although  you  arc  both  of  you  so  very  good,  yet 
you  offend  in  one  point  every  breath  you  draw,  while  you  live 
outside  of  the  only  true  church.  That  is  a  mortal  sin ;  and  I 

*  Antinius.  "  Si  enim  certum  est  esse  probabilera  certura  est  eandum 
tutam,  esse,  id  est,  usum  illius  tutem,  est  licitam  praxim."  —  Dial.  1,  n. 
53.  Horatius  Fabri.  Ed.  1670.  Cited  in  "  Principles  of  Jesuits,"  pp.  82, 
83.  London,  1839. 


JESUIT   M  DEALS.  253 

fear  you  will  find  it  so  too  late.  0,  if  you  would  only  become 
Catholics !  then  all  your  other  sins  would  be  only  venial,  and 
they  don't  amount  to  anything." 

"  Your  cousin  don't  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Outright. 

"  My  cousin,  poor,  dear  soul !  My  cousin  has  Father  Hilde- 
brand  for  her  confessor,  a  Benedictine,  and  he  keeps  her  in  utter 
ignorance  of  all  the  Jesuit  fathers  and  doctors,  whose  writings  he 
hates  with  the  most  intense  abhorrence.  My  poor  dear  cousin 
gives  up  herself  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  man  who  hunts  for 
blood  with  the  zest  of  a  bloodhound.  But  my  confessor  is  a 
Jesuit,  and  he  takes  very  different  views  of  life  and  duty,  and  no 
path  can  be  more  plain  than  the  primrose  path  in  which  he  leads 
me." 

"  If  I  understand  this  doctrine  of  probabilities"  said  Annie, 
with  warmth,  "  it  is  subversive  of  all  sense  of  right  and  wrong." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Outright,  that  is  just  what  Father  Hildebrand 
tells  my  cousin,  and  which  she  repeats  to  me.  But,  is  it  so 
strange  ?  Is  there  nothing  in  human  laws  teaching  the  same 
thing  ?  Does  not  a  doubt  in  the  mind  of  a  juror,  a  single  doubt, 
save  the  life  of  one  tried  for  murder?  and  so,  in  like  manner,  a 
probability,  in  the  minds  of  all  our  great  casuists,  saves  the  life  of 
a  soul.  Now,  this  is  all  my  own  thinking  out,  so  I  will  claim  it 
as  my  own.  Don't  you  think  it  very  clever  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  May,"  said  Annie,  tenderly,  "  we  are  at 
antipodes  in  our  judgments  on  questions  of  faith  and  duty.  "We 
adhere  to  the  Scriptures  untouched  by  casuists,  and  when  their 
teachings  conflict  with  God's  word  they  must  be  wrong." 

Our  ladies  now  offered  Mrs.  May  their  hands  to  take  leave. 
She  took  them  most  affectionately,  and  replied,  "  I  love  you  both 
22 


254  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

dearly.  I  am  sorry  we  so  differ,  and  am  glad  I  have  <  a  probable 
opinion'  you  will  be  saved." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Annie,  "  and  do  you  now  talk  out  of  your 
casuist  doctor's  books,  or  out  of  your  own  heart  ?  " 

"0,  it  is  the  teaching  of  the  church  !  All  that  I  believe  is 
what  the  church  believes  !  And  this  is  laid  down  in  the  books ; 
but  it  is  not  much  talked  of,  because  it  would  do  harm.  And 
yet  it  must  be  so ;  for  it  is  the  only  way  in  which  we  good  Cath 
olics  can  be  happy,  surrounded  as  we  are  with  so  many  lovable 
persons  who  live  regardless  of  our  Holy  Mother's  sympathies, 
and  out  of  the  pale  of  the  holy  church." 

"  Do  go  on !  "  said  Gertrude,  for  Mrs.  May  had  paused. 

"  If  I  do,  you  will  pardon  me  for  what  may  sound  discourteous." 

"  Certainly,  certainly  !  "  both  ladies  said  at  once. 

"Well,  my  friends,  my  hope,  —  the  hope  of  the  Catholic 
church,  that  of  all  its  popes,  cardinals,  bishops,  and  priests,  —  for 
your  salvation,  rests  upon  your  invincible  ignorance  !  *  Do  you 
forgive  me  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  May. 

*  GEORGE  DE  RHODES,  Disp.  Theo.  Scho.,  A.  D.  1671,  says  :  "  Where- 
ever  there  is  no  knowledge  of  wickedness,  there  is  also,  of  necessity,  no 
sin."  *  *  *  "  Criminality  is  only  imputedto  the  measure  of  knowl 
edge.  ' '  These  are  the  premises  of  this  great  casuist  ;  now  for  a  sample  of 
the  examples  to  which  they  are  applicable  :  "If  a  man  commit  ADULTEIIY 
or  HOMICIDE,  reflecting,  indeed,  but  still  very  imperfectly  and  super 
ficially,  upon  the  wickedness  and  yr eat  sinfulness  of  these  crimes,  however 
heinous  may  be  the  matter,  he  stills  sins  but  slightly."  If  any  reader 
wants  the  very  words,  here  they  are  :  "  llle,  quantumyis  gravissima  sit 
materia,  non  peccat  t amen  nisi  leviter."  —  De  Actibus  Ilumanis.  Disp. 
2,  Ques.  2,  Sect.  1.  Cited  in  "  Principles  of  Jesuits."  London  :  Riving- 
ton.  1839,  p.  112. 


JESUIT  MORALITY.  255 

"  Yes ;  a  thousand  times  !  "  said  Annie,  laughing. 

"  Mrs.  May,  do  take  off  those   spurs,  to  please  me ! "  said 

Gertrude. 

"  I  would,  Mrs.  Trueman,  but  I  must  please  Father  Cottin." 

"  Tell  him  I  think  it  dreadfully  cruel  to  put  them  there." 

"  I  will,"  replied  Mrs.  May ;  "  and  I  will  do  more.     I  will 

see  if  my  crewel  can't  cure  his  cruelty." 
And  so  the  ladies  separated. 


CHAPTER  L. 

AN    ASCETIC    MONK   AND    HIS   PENITENT. 

WE  have  introduced  our  readers  to  a  fair  lady  whose  confess 
or  was  a  Jesuit,  and  have  heard  her  talk  of  her  code  of  morals. 
We  have  lying  before  us  an  old  folio  volume,  thus  entitled  : 
"  The  Jesuits'  Morals,  collected  by  a  Doctor  of  the  College  of 
Sorbon,  in  Paris,  who  hath  faithfully  extracted  them  out  of  the 
Jesuits'  own  Books,  which  are  printed  by  the  permission  and 
approbation  of  the  Superiors  of  their  Society.  Written  in 
French,  and  exactly  translated  into  English.  London  :  printed 
for  J  ohn  Starkey,  at  the  Miter  in  Fleet-street,  near  Temple  Bar, 
MDCLXX."  This  volume  was  the  work  of  the  great  Arnauld  of 
Port  Royal,  and  out  of  which  Pascal  wrote  his  "  Provincial  Let 
ters."  And  in  the  chapter  we  have  written  we  have  presented 


256  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

none  of  the  horrible  features  of  a  system  full  of  activity  and  of 
power,  at  this  day  and  in  our  country. 

We  have  indicated  the  great  differences  existing  among  clergy 
who  claim  to  be  always  in  unity.  The  history  of  sects  shows  no 
more  fierce  contentions  than  those  of  the  Dominicans  and  Fran 
ciscans,  and  the  regular  orders  of  the  papal  church.  Two  cen 
turies  since,  the  order  of  Jesuits  arose,  who  war  with  all  orders, 
and  with  the  Pope  himself,  when  adverse,  or  in  conflict  with  the 
interests  of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  The  future  history  of  our 
Union  may  record  the  story  of  what  Jesuits  can  do  in  republics  ; 
and  with  greater  ease  and  effect  than  under  continental  mon 
archies. 

To  proceed  with  our  story.  No  one  held  the  fraternity  of 
Ignatius  Loyola  in  greater  aversion  than  Father  Hildebrand. 
His  was  a  stern  code.  He  hated  the  body  in  which  he  lived, 
and  punished  its  motions  with  severest  rigor.  His  food  and 
sleep  were  measured  by  a  rule,  which,  once  fixed,  was  never  mod 
ified,  whatever  might  be  the  conditions  and  changes  of  climate, 
of  heat  and  cold,  moist  or  dry,  or  the  advance  of  old  age.  He 
held  in  contempt  the  waywardness  of  weaker  minds,  and 
demanded  of  his  penitents  the  fullest  compliance  with  his  require 
ments.  Heaven  was  to  be  won ;  and  the  fight  was  one  of  duty 
over  inclination.  Every  motion  of  natural  desire  he  would 
have  mortified,  and  every  love  of  the  soul  he  would  have 
extinguished. 

The  .-morals  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  he  abhorred,  and  deemed 
the  sons  of  Loyola  treacherous  friends  of  the  popedom,  and  the 
banded  foes  of  the  regular  orders.  His  learning  was  great  in 
the  best  writers  of  the  church.  He  had  lived  at  courts,  and  his 


FATHER  HILDEBRAND.  257 

mien  bore  the  marks  of  courtly  grace  and  dignity;  while  his 
downcast  eyes  told  all  passers-by  his  alienation  from  the  busy 
pursuits  of  life.  Above  all  else,  his  passion  was  charity.  Indif 
ferent  to  his  own  wants,  he  was  ever  laboring  to  relieve  the 
wants  cf  the  miserable  and  the  poor.  His  zeal  was  fashioned 
after  the  model  of  St.  Chrysostom ;  and,  next  to  virginity, 
charity  was  the  golden  key  to  paradise.  In  his  public  ministry 
he  erred  in  making  heaven  too  cheap  ;  —  for  we  have  observed 
that  men  never  go  beyond  the  asking  price ;  —  arid  we  would 
with  all  humility  express  a  doubt  if  the  great  father  of  the 
fourth  century  did  not  make  the  same  mistake  as  Father  Hilde- 
brand,  when  he  addressed  the  rich  men  of  his  day  thus  :  "  Hast 
thou  a  penny  ?  purchase  heaven !  Not,  indeed,  as  if  heaven 
were  cheap,  but  the  Master  is  indulgent.  Give  a  crust,  and  take 
back  paradise ;  give  the  least,  and  take  the  greatest."  We  ask 
our  readers  if,  in  such  teaching,  Chrysostom  does  not  come  in 
conflict  with  the  sayings  of  the  Lord  of  life,  whose  demand  on 
the  young  rich  man  has  lost  none  of  its  insurmountable  difficul 
ties  in  the  lapse  of  centuries. 

Was  it  wonderful  that  Father  Hildebrand  should  attain  a 
fearful  ascendency  over  religious  and  sensitive  temperaments  ? 
And  such  was  Mrs.  Emily  Mead,  a  lady  of  high  nervous  suscep 
tibility.  She  could  never  listen  to  a  tale  in  any  way  connected 
with  the  mysterious  relations  of  the  soul.  She  shuddered  at  the 
sight  of  a  skeleton,  for  it  filled  her  mind  with  the  horrors  of  a 
charnel-house  and  the  gloom  of  the  grave.  That  rhetoric,  pecu 
liar  to  the  church,  and  which  is  still  rife  with  the  Roman  and 
Oxford  priesthood,  which  delights  in  depicting  the  revels  of  the 
worm  and  the  corruption  of  the  body,  had  made  the  thought 
22* 


258  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

of  death  to  Mrs.  Mead  an  idea  of  horror.  To  her,  everything 
was  drear,  dark,  and  desolate,  around  the  tomb.  It  was  not  the 
gate  of  bliss,  of  light,  life,  and  love,  but  the  beginning  of  a  pur 
gatory,  whose  vast  caverns  she  was  at  some  time  to  explore  alone 
and  unaided,  amid  burning  flames  and  a  thirst  unquenchable ; 
and  for  how  long  a  period  !  This,  Father  Hildebrand  did  not 
dare  to  compute.^  Was  it  strange  that  to  Mrs.  Mead,  as  to  many 
a  pious  heart  entertaining  like  faith,  death  was  a  fearful  looking 
for  of  future  wretchedness  ?  Is  it  wonderful  that  Mrs.  Mead, 
while  surrounded  with  all  the  adornments  of  fashion  and  lux 
ury,  in  all  which  her  husband  loved  to  see  her  invested,  yet 
longed  for  the  oak  plank,  the  hair  shirt  of  St.  Bridget,  and  a 
darkened  cell,  where,  by  penitence  and  penance,  she  might  per 
haps  —  after  all  it  was  but  a  perhaps  —  bridge  the  dark  valley 
of  Purgatory,  and  gain  the  victory  over  what  was,  in  her  mind, 
the  dread  Trinity  of  Darkness  —  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil ! 

Mrs.  Outright  and  Mrs.  Trueman  were  frequent  visitors  of  this 
lovely  lady.  They  loved  her  for  the  piety  of  her  soul,  and 
sought,  as  they  best  might,  to  show  her  that  such  methods  as  she 
adopted  were  forbidden  by  the  great  Paul ;  t  and  they  presented 
in  the  strongest  contrast  they  could  the  teachings  of  the  Scrip 
tures,  —  the  full,  free  promises  of  the  Lord  of  life ;  but  to  all 
these  teachings  Mrs.  Mead  had  but  one  answer :  "  Father  Hil 
debrand  does  not  say  so."  Nor  did  this  sweet  lady  often  give 
our  friends  the  opportunity  of  speaking  on  these  subjects ;  for 

*  This  is  true  of  the  learned  Allan  Butler,  who  uses  the  words  of  Father 
Hildebrand,  in  his  "  Lives  of  the  Saints,"  speaking  of  the  duration  of 
purgatorial  flames  in  purifying  the  soul.  t  Colossians,  chap.  n. 


MRS.  EMILY  MEAD.  259 

she  had«i  most  graceful  facility  of  conversing  on  commonplace 
topics.  Her  memory,  too,  of  the  incidents  of  social  life,  was 
wonderfully  retentive.  She  never  forgot  the  day  when  her 
friends  were  married,  the  names  of  their  children,  and  all  the 
little  circumstances  of  interest  in  their  lives;  and  then  her 
affection  for  all  was  true  and  ardent.  Our  pilgrims  found 
this  to  be  characteristic  of  those  ladies  who  had  this  order 
of  religious  education,  —  girls  and  women  whose  activity  of 
mind  is  exhausted  in  such  matters.  And  this  is  always 
gratifying,  inasmuch  as  the  persons  spoken  with  hope  that 
they  too  may  be  among  their  treasured  recollections ;  and  this 
works  its  way  into  the  mind  as  a  grateful  odor,  of  which,  though 
its  properties  be  not  analyzed,  the  senses  are  conscious. 

In  Mrs.  Mead  was  seen  the  utter  poverty  of  intellect  which  a 
course  of  education  in  a  convent  induces.  The  nuns  had  made 
her  only  a  respectable  pianist ;  for  they  cannot  teach  more  than 
they  know,  and  the  piano  has  been  created  anew  within  the  last 
ten  years.  She  could  use  her  pencil  prettily,  and  tambour  every 
species  of  stitch  ;  and  her  favorite  employment  was  to  work  all 
sorts  of  "  man-millinery  "  required  for  the  garbs  of  priests,  and 
for  the  altar.  Of  literature  she  knew  nothing.  She  could  "  talk 
French."  Indeed,  it  seemed  as  if  the  spirit  of  her  religion  was 
to  know  nothing  but  what  she  learned  of  Father  Hildebrand. 
The  breviary  was  her  sole  companion.  The  leaden  skull-cap  of 
an  eminent,  so-called,  Catholic  faith  acted  as  an  extinguisher  upon 
every  aspiration  of  her  soul.  The  tree  of  knowledge,  in  the 
llomish  church,  is  still  the  forbidden  fruit,  of  which  to  eat  is  to 
die. 

One  morning,  Mrs.  Outright  was  sitting  with  Mrs.  Mead  in 


260  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

happy  converse,  when  Father  Hildebrand  was  announced.  At 
once  Mrs.  Mead's  gayety  vanished,  and  the  sunshine  of  her  beau 
tiful  face  was  gone,  like  a  gleam  of  light  through  the  broken 
clouds  of  a  coming  storm.  "When  Father  H.  entered,  Mrs.  Mead 
rose  and  made  a  low  obeisance,  and,  with  her  head  bowed  and  her 
hands  folded  across  her  bosom,  stood  till  he  had  seated  himself. 
Now,  Annie  was  not  to  be  frightened  by  a  priest ;  and  to  her 
there  was  nothing  very  dreadful  in  Father  Hildebrand.  He  was 
a  tall,  gloomy  man ;  and  she  was  sorry,  for  his  sake,  that  he  was 
so.  Father  Hildebrand  bowed,  as  he  entered,  very  profoundly 
and  gracefully.  He  could  not  do  otherwise,  for  it  was  nature 
with  him ;  but  he  took  his  seat  the  furthest  he  could  command 
from  them,  and  sat  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  carpet. 

"  Father  Hildebrand,"  said  Annie,  in  her  brightest  and  most 
musical  tones,  full  of  gladness  and  kindness,  and  which  would 
have  wakened  a  soul  not  turned  to  stone,  "  we  have  been  talking 
about  the  coming  fete-day  of  the  pseudo-Catholic  church,  and  I 
was  telling  Mrs.  Mead  of  my  opinion  in  this  matter.'' 

Father  Hildebrand  bowed,  without  raising  his  eyes.  Annie 
determined  he  should  talk;  she  was  piqued  with  his  man 
ner,  as  expressive  of  his  aversion  to  herself  as  a  woman ;  just 
as  if  she  were  a  basilisk,  or  as  if  she  could  wish  to  inspire  him 
with  a  sentiment  a  saint  might  not  welcome  to  his  soul.  She  felt 
her  pride  touched  by  his  keeping  his  eyes  upon  the  carpet,  as  if 
it  were  a  silent  insult.  She  rose,  therefore,  and  walked  to  the 
spot  where  he  sat. 

"  Father  Hildebrand,"  said  Annie,  "  I  want  your  opinion  in 
this  matter.  What  do  you  think  of  these  pretenders  to  a  faith 
purer  than  your  own  ?  " 


THE  FLAGELLATION   OF  HOLY  INNOCENTS.          261 

Father  H.  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  carpet,  resolutely,  and 
replied  :  "  I  hope,  madam,  the  zeal  which  has  inspired  the  clergy 
you  speak  of  will  lead  them  to  the  only  church  of  Christ.  In 
deed,  they  cannot  but  come  into  unity  with  the  Catholic  church 
if  they  follow  out  to  their  necessary  conclusions  the  premises  they 
have  already  adopted  as  true.  I  beg  to  be  excused  from  any 
further  remark." 

"Pardon  me,  Father  Hildebrand," — for  Annie  was  not  yet 
willing  to  give  up  her  point,  —  "  "What  do  you  think  of  public 
processions  of  Flagellants  ?  Do  you  commend  such  practices  ?  " 

"  I  commend  only  what  I  practise,"  was  the  reply. 

Annie  turned  round  to  see  how  this  answer  was  received  by 
Mrs.  Mead,  and,  perceiving  great  inquietude  in  her  face,  she 
bowed  to  Father  Hildebrand;  then,  advancing  towards  Mrs. 
Mead,  she  bade  her  good-day,  and  so  took  leave  of  the  grim  peni 
tentiary  and  his  fair  penitent. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  FLAGELLATION  OF  THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS. 

THE  week  of  weeks  drew  on ;  and,  while  the  citizens  of  this 
great  city  were  all  unconscious  of  the  event  impending,  the  most 
select  circles  of  high  churchism  were  full  of  busy  preparation 
and  of  tender  solicitude,  —  especially  those  young  ladies  who 
were  so  happy  as  to  have  a  penitent  to  represent  them,  and  for 
whom  they  were  now  occupied  in  making  hoods  and  cassocks  to 


262  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

be  worn  on  the  third  of  May  next.  Each  young  lady  had 
wrought  some  symbol  on  the  hood  and  cassock,  by  which  she 
should  distinguish  her  gallant ;  and  the  young  gentlemen  were 
practising  the  most  graceful  way  of  swinging  the  whip,  so  as  to 
make  the  greatest  nourish  with  the  least  suffering  ;*  and  a  few 
were  wise  enough,  from  this  experience,  to  provide  themselves 
with  a  canvas  undershirt,  which  they  believed  would  be  useful  on 
that  occasion.  To  these  young  ladies  their  share  was  truly  a 
labor  of  love.  All  the  enthusiasm  of  the  days  of  chivalry  was  to 
them  renewed. 

Emily  Yan  Nostrand  made  an  early  visit  to  her  bosom  friend 
Netta  Hook,  carrying  up  her  work-basket  into  Netta's  chamber. 
She  found  Netta  busily  engaged  on  a  hood  to  be  worn  by  her 
own  Mr.  Tompkins.  After  their  morning  congratulations,  Netta 
held  up  the  hood,  which  was  for  all  the  world  like  a  criminal's 
cap,  over  the  face  of  which  she  had  worked  a  black  cross  in 
worsted,  with  holes  in  the  arms  of  the  cross  for  the  eyes.  "  Don't 
you  think,  Emily,  this  is  a  love  of  a  hood  ?  It  is  so  like  a 
helmet ! " 

"  "Well,  it  is  very  like  a  helmet,"  said  Emily. 

"  Have  you  decided  on  your  symbol  for  Simpkins  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  brought  me  here  so  early,"  replied  Emily.  "  I 
want  to  get  your  opinion,  Netta,  as  to  my  cassock."  So  saying, 
Emily  opened  her  basket  and  took  out  a  long  linen  shirt,  upon 
which  she  had  wrought,  in  colored  worsteds,  a  Greek  cross,  encir 
cled  by  a  crown  of  thorns.  Netta  held  it  up  and  examined  it 
carefully,  and,  laying  it  upon  the  sofa,  took  steps  backward,  to 

*  Boileau  says,  "  In  Spain  this  art  is  taught  just  as  dancing  is  else 
where." 


THE   CASSOCKS   TO   BE   WORN.  263 

gee  the  effect  at  a  distance.  She  cried  out,  "  It  is  beautiful !  0, 
those  thorns  are  so  sweetly  done,  and  so  appropriate !  Do  you 
know,  Emily,  I  have  made  two  cassocks,  and  neither  of  them 
suited  me,  and  I  burned  them  up,  so  that  mother  might  not  scold 
me  for  using  up  so  much  linen ;  but,  now,  this  is  perfectly  charm 
ing  i  —  and,  if  you  will  consent,  I  will  work  the  same  pattern  on 
Mr.  Tompkins'  cassock,  putting  it  on  his  back  instead  of  his 
breast." 

Emily  hesitated,  and  shook  her  head.  Netta  continued : 
"  Nobody  will  think  you  copied  from  me,  nor  I  from  you ;  for 
my  cross  will  be  in  black,  and  on  his  back,  and  yours  will  be  on 
his  breast,  and  in  colors." 

Emily  paused  a  moment.  "  Well,  Netta,  I  will  consent  be 
cause  it  pleases  you  ;  but  don't  let  any  girls  of  *  our  set '  see  your 
cassock,  or  they  will  copy  it  exactly.  I  know  that  has  been  done 
already,  and  it  is  so  mean !  " 

"  I  show  it !  "  said  Netta ;  "do  you  think  I  would  trust  them  ? 
Did  n't  I  have  my  bodice  for  Mrs.  May's  fancy  party  copied  by 
Lucy  Delancey?  No,  my  dear  Emily;  catch  me  confiding  in  a 
single  one  of  them  !  In  matters  of  this  sort  they  have  n't  a  bit 
of  conscience ;  for  I  know  too  well  some  will  steal  and  some  will 
lie ! " 

So  it  was  with  these  young  ladies.  Soon  weary  of  the  pleas 
ures  and  pursuits  of  fashionable  life,  they  were  now  all  alive  to 
the  blissful  novelty  of  becoming  members  of  a  mystical  order  of 
the  High  Church,  in  which  there  were  to  be  as  many  neophytes  as 
there  were  young  ladies,  and  no  more.  Mothers  and  maiden 
aunts  aided  in  these  preparations.  Professor  Lacy  and  his  col 
leagues  had  tasked  them  to  embroider  all  the  banners,  the  most 


264  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

costly  and  beautiful  bearing  the  symbols  of  a  lamb,  the  cross,  the 
cup  and  the  keys,  wrought  in  colored  worsteds ;  and  another  large 
banner,  to  be  borne  by  the  Ecclesiological  Society,  on  which  was 
represented  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  her  Child. 

The  day  of  days  dawned  auspiciously.  The  rain  during  the 
night  had  cleared  the  sky  of  every  cloud,  and  the  air  was  soft  and 
balmy ;  the  birds  were  full  of  song,  and  the  young  ladies,  for 
once  up  before  the  sun,  were  full  of  joy.  It  was,  indeed,  a  day 
of  days. 

At  eleven  o'clock  a  throng  of  the  initiated,  and  the  clergy  in 
their  black  robes,  filled  the  cathedral  church.  The  altar  was 
crowded  with  clergy;  and  the  penitents,  fifty  in  all,  in  their 
hoods  and  cassocks,  knelt  around  the  chancel.  The  organ  had 
closed  a  grand  voluntary,  and  a  pause  ensued.  There  was  some 
delay  and  inquietude  expressed  in  the  movements  of  the  clergy, 
which  was  solved  to  the  minds  of  our  pilgrims,  who  sat  with  Lord 
Shallbeso  near  the  chancel,  when  Mrs.  May's  servant  brought  in 
a  long  basket,  covered  with  an  elegant  satin  embroidered  cover, 
representing  a  crown  of  thorns  mingled  with  roses.  This  was 
received  by  a  priest,  who  laid  it  upon  the  altar.  This  being 
done,  the  service  commenced.  Professor  Lacy's  sermon  was 
brief,  —  recommending  to  the  penitents  zeal,  not  counting  their 
lives  dear  so  they  might  win  back  to  the  church  the  ungodly. 

The  sermon  ended,  the  benediction  was  pronounced,  when  the 
procession  was  formed  in  the  broad  aisle.  At  one  o'clock  pre 
cisely  the  bells  of  the  tower  began  ringing  a  peal,  and  the  atten 
tion  of  the  busy  crowd  forever  thronging  that  great  thoroughfare, 
when  the  great  iron  gates  were  thrown  open,  was  at  once  arrested, 
and  there  issued  from  the  porch  a  wooden  cross,  borne  by  Professor 


SCENE   IN    CHANGE    ALLEY.  265 

Lacy,  six  feet  in  length,  made  out  of  a  pine  board,  gilded,  with 
a  crown  of  thorns  hanging  upon  it.  Then  came  a  band  of  male 
choristers,  all  in  white  cassocks,  bearing  naming  torches;  next 
followed  the  hooded  penitents,  with  their  whips  in  their  hands. 
The  banners,  borne  by  strong  men,  hired  for  the  purpose,  in  hoods 
and  cassocks,  preceded  and  followed  these  young  martyrs  to  the 
faith ;  and,  last  of  all,  the  clergy,  a  body  of  gentlemen  greatly 
respected  at  Vanity  Fair. 

When  the  gates  opened,  as  we  have  before  said,  the  attention 
of  the  public  was  arrested  in  the  busy  pursuits  of  life ;  drivers  of 
carriages  and  of  carts,  with  an  instinct  of  reverence  common  to 
all  men,  came  to  a  stand-still,  while  Professor  Lacy  and  his  cross, 
followed  by  the  choir  chanting  in  full  tide  of  song  the  Miserere, 
crossed  the  street  into  Change  Alley,  where  men  of  money  most 
do  congregate.  Here  the  rushing  tides  of  men,  meeting,  dammed 
each  other,  and  all  was  wonder  and  astonishment.  Every  win 
dow,  every  point  of  observation,  was  instantly  crowded  to  its 
utmost  capacity.  The  vast  steps  of  the  Exchange,  the  base  of 
every  pillar,  were  all  filled.  Bankers,  brokers,  and  clerks,  alike 
forgot  the  pursuits  of  gain  to  witness  this  new  wonder. 

When  the  procession  had  reached  the  Exchange  building  so  as 
to  bring  the  penitents  in  front  of  the  flight  of  steps,  it  halted,  and 
Professor  Lacy,  bringing  his  gilt  cross  in  front  of  the  grand 
entrance,  set  it  down,  while  the  line  of  the  procession  turned  and 
faced  the  multitude  with  something  like  military  precision,  show 
ing  that  all  this  had  been  before  agreed  on.  This  done,  while 
expectation  sat  upon  that  multitude  of  faces,  all  gazing  down 
upon  this  strange  spectacle,  Professor  Lacy  lifted  up  his  hand  in 
sign  of  claiming  the  attention  of  that  multitude  of  merchants, 
23 


266  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

bankers,  and  brokers,  of  this  great  city,  the  men  of  might  and 
means  (and  here  it  may  be  whispered,  many  of  them  "  mighty 
mean  men").  The  professor,  copying  the  example  of  Grodonius, 
cried  out,  "Ye  bankers  and  monied  men  of  Change  Alley! 
pardon,  pardon  the  sins  of  our  diocesan  for  the  sake  of  the 
scourging  of  Christ !  "  Thereupon,  at  once,  and  with  a  sudden, 
startling  earnestness,  the  penitents  began  scourging  themselves ; 
and  the  spurs  of  Father  Cottin,  those  "  cutaneous  persuaders/' 
began  to  show  themselves.  The  blood  began  to  flow,  and  the 
shirts  of  the  honest  and  the  simple  showed  the  sincerity  of  their 
zeal,  while  cries  of  agony  mingled  with  the  renewed  singing  of 
the  Miserere,  and,  for  a  time,  the  multitude  were  dumb  with 
amazement.  Before  they  could  recover,  Professor  Lacy  had 
shouldered  his  cross,  and,  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
procession,  led  the  way  into  a  cross  street  which  led  up  into  the 
upper  section  of  the  city. 

All  the  young  ladies  belonging  to  the  order  of  Holy  Innocents 
on  that  day  were  dressed,  by  agreement,  in  white  muslin,  with  a 
red  sash,  and  rosettes  in  the  form  of  a  Greek  cross.  After  the 
services  were  over  in  the  church,  they  hastened,  in  their  car 
riages,  to  Fifth  Avenue,  —  an  avenue  of  palaces,  —  the  balconies 
of  which  were  thronged  with  spectators,  and  in  which  these  lay 
sisters  of  the  Holy  Innocents  were  to  stand  conspicuously,  to 
welcome  with  their  perfumed  handkerchiefs  their  beloved  peni 
tents,  never  so  dear  as  now,  who  were  to  come  up  directly  out  of 
Change  Alley. 

Our  pilgrims  had  been  invited  to  seats  in  the  balcony  of  Netta 
Hook's  father's  mansion,  with  Lord  and  Lady  Dielincceur,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Nostrand,  and  their  daughter  Emily,  together  with 


THE   CLOUD   OF  WITNESSES.  267 

several  young  ladies  who  wore  the  symbol  of  the  cross.  The 
delay  in  the  coming  of  the  procession  was  long  to  these  young 
folks,  whose  hearts  were  beating  almost  to  agony,  so  anxious  were 
they  to  see  their  lovers ;  for  just  then  they  felt  certain  they  never 
could,  in  all  their  lives,  love  anybody  else  but  their  representa 
tives  in  the  procession.  And  still  they  did  not  come.  The 
pavement  below  was  covered  with  people,  and  the  police  were 
constantly  occupied  in  keeping  the  entire  avenue  clear.  The 
delay  became  more  and  more  unbearable,  when  the  waving  of 
handkerchiefs  by  ladies  on  the  balconies  at  the  foot  of  the  ave 
nue,  which  commanded  a  sight  of  the  square  below,  assured  them 
all  that  the  procession  would  soon  be  in  sight.  And,  after  an 
anxious  moment,  Professor  Lacy's  gilded  cross  was  seen  glittering 
in  the  sun,  and  the  distant  murmur  of  litanies,  being  sung  by  the 
choir,  was  heard.  Now,  then,  the  moment  of  intensest  excite 
ment  was  reached ;  for  the  golden  cross  was  coming  up  the  ave 
nue,  and  the  banners,  and  the  choristers,  and  their  flambeaux, 
smoking,  if  not  blazing,  and,  too,  the  penitents !  Here,  in  breath 
less  anxiety,  stood  a  lovely  cloud  of  witnesses.  When  the  pro 
cession  had  reached  the  mansion-houses  where  these  girls  were 
to  be  seen  standing  in  front  of  the  balconies  on  both'  sides  of  the 
street,  the  signal  for  the  Miserere  was  given ;  and,  as  the  voices 
of  the  choir  again  rose,  the  poor  Innocents  once  more  began  to 
thrash  themselves,  and  now  with  the  rage  of  despair ;  for  every 
blow  brought  an  agony,  which  maddened  them  to  another  blow, 
and  another,  while  their  cries  and  shrieks  filled  the  air. 

"  0,  Emily !  Emily !  "  exclaimed  a  young  girl,  "  see !  see  the 
blood !  —  the  blood !  I  'm  fainting  !  "  And  the  sweet  girl  sank 
into  the  arms  of  Oliver,  who  bore  her  into  the  saloon. 


268  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  Don't,  don't,  Mr.  Tompkins !  0,  don't,  Mr.  Tompkins  !  " 
cried  out  Eniily  Yan  Nostrand,  as  she  saw  her  penitent  with  his 
cassock,  so  spotless  white  from  her  hands,  all  red  with  blood, 
dripping  from  the  hem.  "You'll  kill  yourself!  0,  don't, 
don't ! " 

The  poor  fellow  turned  up  his  hooded  face  to  the  balcony,  and 
uttered  the  cry  of  a  maniac,  as  he  walked  on  in  the  procession, 
thrashing  himself  with  new  violence.  And,  while  Annie  stood 
amazed  at  the  sight,  and  the  cries  of  the  girls  in  the  balcony, 
and  the  shouts  of  the  multitude  all  around,  she  was  startled  by 
the  voice  of  Netta  Hook,  crying,  in  a  tone  of  intense  anger  and 
passionate  grief:  "  Shame,  shame,  shame  on  you,  Mr.  Simp- 
kins  ! "  as  she  saw  her  penitent  pass  by  in  his  beautifully 
wrought  cassock,  as  white  as  when  he  put  it  on.  Simpkins  hung 
down  his  head  and  lashed  himself  furiously  ;  but  the  lining  was 
too  thick  to  touch  blood,  and  the  beautiful  Netta  turned  away 
and  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  Annie  placed  her  arm 
round  her  waist  and  gently  drew  her  into  the  saloon,  and  sought 
to  soothe  her.  "  The  mean,  cowardly  wretch,  to  put  a  blanket 
on  his  back,  and  not  to  shed  a  single  drop  of  his  precious  blood ! 
O,  I  hate  him  !  how  I  hate  him !  "  This  dear  girl  thus  relieved 
her  heart  of  its  grief.  "  He  sha'n't  come  here  any  more  !  I 
never  will  see  him  again  !  Never,  never !  "  and,  so  saying,  she 
burst  into  a  copious  flood  of  tears. 

And  so  it  was  on  all  sides,  —  those  sweet  girls  whose  lovers 
bled  freely  wept  their  eyes  out  for  sympathy ;  and  those  whose 
penitents'  backs  were  unspotted  wept  for  shame  and  hatred. 
The  tears  of  the  tender-hearted  were  more  readily  wiped  off 
than  those  whose  hearts  had  suddenly  swept  from  exalted  pity  to 


EFFECT  UPON  PUBLIC  MIND.          269 

unfathomable  depths  of  contempt.  They  said  it  was  unbearable, 
after  all  their  pains-taking,  that  their  penitents,  wearing  their 
favors,  known  to  be  theirs  to  all  their  friends,  should  shrink  from 
the  ordeal,  and  make  them  too  ridiculous  and  contemptible. 

"  But  how  so  ?  "  asked  Gertrude.     "  It  is  no  fault  of  yours." 

"  0,  yes,  it  is  our  fault  to  have  accepted  such  craven  cowards ! 
It  is  dreadful,  dreadful !  "  And  they,  like  Jonah,  all  felt  "  they 
did  well  to  be  angry,  even  unto  death." 

As  for  those  sagacious  young  gentlemen,  they  would  gladly 
have  exchanged  places  with  their  companions,  whose  raw  backs 
they  envied,  when  their  lady-loves,  accompanied  by  their  moth 
ers,  flew,  after  the  manner  of  ladies  in  the  days  of  chivalry,  with 
emollients,  and,  under  their  mothers'  supervision,  applied  them 
with  their  own  fair  hands,  accompanied  with  many  tender  and 
endearing  expressions  of  their  sympathy. 

And,  when  all  was  over,  public  opinion  down-town  and  public 
opinion  up-town  was  widely  variant.  Down-town,  and  among 
"  dissenters,"  especially,  it  was  held,  the  lashes  borne  by  the  order 
of  Holy  Innocents  would  have  been  better  placed  elsewhere,  and 
not  upon  these  poor  dupes  of  Doctors  of  Divinity.  Up-town,  it 
was  regarded  as  a  most  delightful  event ;  for,  after  this,  not  even 
Father  Hildebrand  could  question  the  unity  of  the  Anglo-Saxon- 
American  with  the  Roman  Catholic  church. 
23* 


270  .     MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

LADY  DIELINCOEUR'S  MAY  PARTY. 

LADY  Di.  came  in  to  see  our  ladies  the  morning  after  the  great 
event  of  "  Finding  the  Cross ; "  and,  of  course,  this  topic  was 
the  first  spoken  of.  Mrs.  Proudfit  also  came  in  to  call  upon  our 
ladies,  and  was  full  of  her  wit.  To  repeat  this  lady's  views 
would  give  us  pleasure ;  but  we  forbear,  and  leave  our  readers 
to  their  own  reflections. 

Lady  D.  begged  our  friends  to  come  to  her  children's  party, 
which  she  gave  annually  to  her  young  friends,  and  with  which 
her  season  ended. 

"  I  have,"  she  added,  "  to  offer  a  great  inducement  for  you  to 
come,  inasmuch  as  I  have  received  this  morning  the  letter  of 
acceptance  from  Count  du  Rudolstadt  and  Consuelo,  and  they 
tell  me  they  hope  to  spend  a  week  with  me." 

"  Who  is  Consuelo  ?  "  asked  Annie.  "  I  already  know  the 
nom  de  plume  given  her  by  Madame  George  Sand." 

"  She  is,  as  you  know,  the  wife  of  the  Arcopagite  of  the  Pha 
lanstery.  His  real  name  is  Frederick  von  Hagedorn,  Count  of 
Fehrbellin,  a  man  of  great  wealth,  who  became  fascinated  with 
Lucille  de  Tonnes,  now  Consuelo,  a  beautiful  opera-singer. 
After  many  adventures  they  married,  and  went  to  Paris,  where 
they  made  the  acquaintance  of  Madame  Sand,  who  has  made  a 
most  beautiful  story  out  of  their  lives.  They  are  very  devoted 
to  each  other,  and  to  the  great  work  of  their  lives,  the  regenera- 


THE  MAY   PARTY.  271 

tion  of  the  social  system.  You  will  greatly  admire  her,  for  she 
is  very  talented." 

"  And  the  count,"  said  Mrs.  Proudfit,  "  is,  to  my  mind,  far 
more  interesting  than  his  lady." 

"  Next  June,  I  propose  we  shall  go  up  to  the  Astral  Moun 
tains,  and  see  the  Phalanstery.  It  is  well  worth  the  journey," 
said  Lady  D. 

"Next  summer!  I  expect  we  shall  be  on  our  way  to  the 
Celestial  City,"  said  Gertrude. 

"  My  dear  friends,  you  distress  me  whenever  I  hear  you  speak 
of  that  idle  purpose.  But  don't  let  us  speak  of  that  now.  I 
shall  hope  to  see  you  and  your  husband  at  my  May  party  on 
Friday  evening.  Gome  at  nine  o'clock,  and  as  much  earlier  as 
you  please.  The  children  come  at  seven.  It  is  only  a  child's 
party," 

"  We  will  communicate  your  kind  invitation  to  our  husbands, 
and  inform  you,  Lady  Di.,  to-morrow,"  said  Annie. 

"  Your  husbands  !  "  said  Mrs.  Proudfit,  scornfully.  "  When 
you  get  a  little  older  and  wiser,  you  will  learn  that  husbands  are 
made  to  look  after  their  wives,  and  it  is  their  wives'  business  to 
see  they  never  lack  for  employment." 

Our  gentlemen  coming  in  at  the  instant,  the  invitation  was 
renewed  and  accepted ;  and,  as  a  compensation  for  their  willing 
ness  to  gratify  them,  Lady  Di.  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  in  a  mode 
which  seemed  most  natural,  and  without  predetermination, 
inveigled  both  these  gentlemen  away,  to  make  a  call  on  some 
strangers  just  come  to  town.  And,  inasmuch  as  they  had  been 
requested  by  their  wives  to  come  home  and  ride  out  with  them, 
when  they  were  gone  Annie  and  Gertrude  endeavored  to  go 


272  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

over  all  these  managing  manoeuvres,  step  by  step,  to  see  how  it 
was  done ;  and  they  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  when  women 
of  the  cleverness  of  Mrs.  Proudfit  and  Lady  Di.  determine  to  do 
an  act,  it  will  be  done.  The  agreeable  way  of  doing  it  is,  to  be 
sure,  some  compensation,  and  with  this  most  people  are  fain  to 
be  content. 

"We  have  before  described  the  spaciousness  and  splendor  of 
Lady  Di.'s  house.  Her  garden  was  not  only  beautiful,  but  in  a 
city  a  great  luxury,  for  it  was  near  half  a  square  in  size,  enclosed 
with  high  brick  fences,  and  full  of  flowers,  shrubbery,  and  shade- 
trees,  carpeted  with  the  nicest  sward  to  be  seen  anywhere. 

An  hour  before  sunset,  there  were  collected  upwards  of  two 
hundred  little  children,  in  all  the  beauty  of  bright  faces  and 
white  dresses.  These  thronged  into  the  garden,  and,  as  the 
stars  began  to  shine,  the  halls  and  parlors  were  lit  up,  and  the 
supper  was  served.  Then  the  band  employed  by  Lord  D.  —  one 
of  the  best  in  the  city  —  began  to  play,  and  the  little  folks  com 
menced  dancing,  under  the  smiling  eyes  of  parents  and  friends. 

At  nine  the  little  ones  began  to  leave,  and  the  carriages  which 
took  them  home  brought  their  sisters  and  brothers ;  so  that,  by 
ten  o'clock,  the  children  were  all  gone,  and  a  dress  evening 
party  had  commenced. 

Our  friends  came  in  time  to  see  the  children  in  the  garden 
and  at  supper,  and  aided  in  making  their  party  as  pleasant  as 
may  be.  Lord  D.  and  Colonel  Proudfit  were  very  attentive  to 
the  ladies ;  and,  as  is  usual,  in  good  society,  with  all  well- 
behaved  husbands,  they  exchanged  wives.  The  rooms  were 
filled  with  the  best  society  in  Vanity  Fair. 


THE   COUNT  AND   COUNTESS.  273 

About  eleven  o'clock,  a  great  sensation  went  over  the  entire 
company,  produced  by  the  entrance  of  Count  Rudolstadt  and 
his  party,  in  all  a  dozen  elegant  ladies  and  gentlemen,  splendidly 
attired.  The  count  had  a  noble  presence.  His  eyes  were  black 
and  piercing,  and  in  constant  motion.  His  manners  were  afiable 
and  prepossessing,  so  that  both  our  gentlemen  and  ladies  were 
rivetted  in  their  gaze  upon  him.  Consuelo  —  for  so  she  was  called 
even  when  spoken  to  —  was  about  twenty-seven ;  the  count  being 
ten  years  older.  Her  figure  was  round  and  beautiful  in  its  pro 
portions,  inclining  to  en  Ion  point,  and  her  Spanish  skin  was 
clear  and  rich  in  its  hues.  But  it  was  her  hair  and  her  eyes  in 
which  her  beauty  shone  forth.  Her  hair  was  glossy,  very  fine 
and  luxuriant,  and  her  eyes  were  large  and  lustrous,  their  light 
subdued  by  a  luxurious,  love-inspiring  air,  of  which  she  only  was 
unconscious. 

The  crowd  pressed  forward  to  be  presented  or  recognized. 
The  count  received  all  with  a  bright  smile  of  courtesy,  and  with 
great  warmth  of  manner.  Especially  was  this  expressed  to 
those  with  whom  he  was  acquainted.  All  this  was  in  strong 
contrast  with  the  placid,  unbroken  evenness  with  which  his  lady 
received  compliments  addressed  to  her.  Near  her  stood  a  lady 
about  her  own  age,  whose  beauty  was  very  striking.  She  was 
ever  on  the  alert  with  her  eyes;  and  her  smiles  were  bright, 
but  conventional.  There  was  not  the  slightest  heartiness  in 
anything  she  did,  and  yet  she  did  everything  well.  She  was 
pleasant,  agreeable,  ready,  seemed  to  have  the  command  of 
every  language,  and  relieved  Consuelo  in  a  thousand  ways.  Her 
vivacity  contrasted  well  with  the  unimpassioned,  unimpressible 
manner  of  Consuelo,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  What  has  induced 


274  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

me  to  come  here,  to-night  ?  "  Colonel  Courtney,  a  friend  of  our 
pilgrims,  seemed  delighted  with  this  lady ;  and,  so  soon  as  the 
parade  of  entree  was  over,  she  took  his  arm,  and  he  devoted  him 
self  to  her  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  They  inquired  her  name, 
and  were  told  she  was  known  as  Aurora  de  Silva,  and  that  she 
held  a  high  rank  at  the  Phalanstery.  Of  the  others  in  the  com 
pany  of  the  count,  they  learned  they  were  all  members  of  the 
Phalanstery.  The  social  circles  at  that  place  were  represented 
to  them  as  the  most  select  and  delightful  known  upon  earth ; 
and  it  was  considered  at  Vanity  Fair  a  great  distinction  to  be 
admitted  into  it.  It  was  very  certain  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
composing  the  suite  of  the  count  and  Consuelo  were  persons  of 
fine  manners,  —  easy,  graceful,  and  fashionable,  commanding  the 
general  admiration  and  attention  they  received. 

Supper  was  announced  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  our  lady  pil 
grims  declined  going  to  the  supper.  Mrs.  Proudfit  and  Lady 
Di.  had  prevented  their  return  by  securing  their  husbands,  and 
they  sat  together  in  the  saloons  alone ;  for  the  guests  had  all 
crowded  into  the  supper-hall,  with  the  anxiety  and  earnestness 
of  persons  afflicted  with  famine,  to  the  place  where  rations  would 
be  issued  to  those  on  the  verge  of  starvation.  This  is  not  pecu 
liar  to  Vanity  Fair ;  for  other  places  are  afflicted  with  the  same 
inordinate  desire  of  persons  to  eat  and  drink  at  the  expense  of 
their  neighbors. 

The  count  and  Lady  Di.,  and  Colonel  Proudfit  and  Consuelo, 
came  into  the  saloon.  They  were  evidently  in  search  of  our  lady 
friends ;  for,  so  soon  as  they  discovered  them,  they  at  once  ap 
proached,  and  were  introduced.  Drawing  up  chairs,  they  made 
a  little  group  and  circle  of  their  own.  The  guests  now  began  to 


CONSUELO   SINGS.  275 

pour  into  the  saloon  again.  The  count  'made  himself  agreeable 
to  our  ladies  ;  and  Lady  Di.  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  with  Oliver  and 
Frank,  soon  joined  them.  Lady  Di.'s  attention  being  called  to 
her  departing  guests,  Frank  had  the  opportunity  to  sit  beside 
Consuelo,  whom  he  sought  to  interest.  She  listened  at  first  with 
attention ;  then  her  eyes  opened,  and  she  became  fluent ;  her 
laugh  was  gay  and  natural  as  a  child's.  The  conversation  was 
playful,  and  happily  sustained  on  all  hands ;  till  gradually  it 
was  relinquished  to  Frank  and  Consuelo,  who  so  absorbed  the 
attention  of  our  ladies,  that  the  count  and  Colonel  Proudfit  re 
linquished  all  attempts  to  secure  them  as  listeners,  even ;  and 
Consuelo  became  the  light  of  the  circle ;  her  powers  of  fascina 
tion  held  them  spell-bound  till  they,  only,  remained  of  all  the 
guests.  At  this  time  Annie  and  Gertrude  exchanged  glances  to 
take  leave,  when  Lord  D.  and  Lady  Di.,  having  made  their  bows 
to  their  last  guest,  joined  the  circle,  which  now  consisted  of  Con 
suelo  and  her  party,  and  our  party,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Proudfit, 
and  Lord  and  Lady  D. 

"  Now,  countess,"  said  Lord  D.,  "we  are  all  a?one.  I  know 
your  good-nature,  and  the  pleasure  you  can  confer.  Sing  us  a 
song ! " 

"  0,  yes  !  yes  !  "  was  said  by  Lady  Di.  and  Mrs.  Proudfit. 

Consuelo  seemed  irresolute,  and  looked  at  our  ladies. 

"  Pray,  do,"  said  Annie  ;  "  it  will  give  us  great  pleasure." 

"  To  please  you,  my  new-found  friends,  who  have  never  heard 
me  sing,  I  will  break  through  a  rule  I  have  found  it  very  con 
venient  to  make,  never  to  sing  away  from  home.  When  you 
come  to  see  us  at  our  Phalanstery,  then  I  will  gratify  you  to  any 
extent  in  my  power."  And,  so  saying,  Consuelo  gave  her  hand 


276  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

to  Frank,  while  the  count  led  Gertrude  into  the  music-saloon, 
where  a  guitar  was  handed  to  Consuelo  by  Lord  I).,  and  she 
Bang  a  Spanish  song.  The  style  and  execution  had  such  an 
effect  upon  our  ladies,  that,  while  others  were  crying  bravo ! 
bravo  !  they  sat  still  in  wonder  and  admiration.  Consuelo  saw 
this  with  pleasure ;  and,  unsought,  she  sang  one  operatic  gem 
after  another,  for  an  hour. 

Gertrude,  who  sat  nearest  her,  as  Consuelo  put  aside  the  gui 
tar,  said,  "  0,  how  beautiful !  " 

Consuelo  seated  herself  beside  her,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said, 
"  If  you  love  music,  you  must  love  me." 

"  I  do  !  "  said  Gertrude,  quite  unconscious  of  what  she  said. 

Consuelo  was  evidently  gratified  by  the  impression  she  had 
made ;  and  her  party  of  friends  all  reflected  her  sentiments. 
They,  too,  did  everything  they  could  to  impress  upon  our  friends 
their  high  regard,  and  the  pleasure  it  would  confer  upon  them 
to  meet  them  again  at  the  Phalanstery.  And  the  information 
they  had  received  of  the  rarity  of  these  invitations  greatly 
helped  to  heighten  the  effect  of  this  courtesy.  The  count  said 
it  would  delight  him  to  show  them  the  way  of  working  out  a 
social  system,  not  as  yet  perfect,  but  at  least  a  shadow  of  the 
substance  hoped  for.  And,  as  for  Consuelo,  she  professed  to 
have  fallen  in  love  with  our  ladies  at  first  sight ;  and  they,  as  a 
return,  modestly  and  kindly  accepted  the  invitation  urged  upon 
them  by  the  count  and  countess,  to  visit  them  in  July  following. 
All  these  matters  being  concluded  upon,  the  party  broke  up. 


THE   PHALANSTERY.  277 

CHAPTER  LIII. 

VISIT   TO   TIIE    PHALANSTERY. 

IN  the  leafy  month  of  June  our  pilgrims  were  persuaded  to 
accompany  Lord  and  Lady  Dielincosur  on  a  visit  to  the  Count 
and  Countess  du  Rudolstadt,  at  their  Phalanstery.  This  was 
situated  in  the  valley  of  Esperanza,  in  the  Astral  Mountains, 
about  a  week's  journey  from  Vanity  Fair.  As  they  were 
getting  weary  of  Vanity  Fair,  it  was  not  a  hard  task  to  per 
suade  them  to  leave  the  city  for  a  month.  Accordingly,  all 
preparations  being  made,  they  set  out  in  stages  hired  in  Vanity 
Fair  for  the  journey. 

The  last  day  was  declining  when  they  reached  the  valley. 
The  palace  in  the  distance  was  seen  lit  up  by  the  slanting  rays 
of  the  setting  sun.  As  it  grew  dark,  the  Phalanstery  became 
radiant  with  light ;  and,  on  a  nearer  approach,  there  were  seen 
a  profusion  of  lamps  not  only  in  the  palace,  but  in  all  the  fanci 
ful  little  summer-houses  and  arbors  which  dotted  the  spacious 
lawn.  In  these  floral  temples  were  to  be  seen  ladies  dressed  in 
white,  with  their  gentlemen  attendants,  sitting  under  the  moon 
shine  of  shaded  globes  suspended  from  the  ceiling.  "0,  it  is 
very  beautiful,"  said  Annie,  "  and  surpasses  anything  we  have 
ever  seen ! " 

The  carriages  now  came  up  to  the  grand  portico,  whose  mar 
ble  pillars  rose  to  the  roof.  Upon  the  wide  pavement  of  the 
porch  stood  groups  of  the  Phalanx,  dressed  in  the  highest  style 
of  refinement  and  elegance.  And  Consuelo  and  the  count,  with 
Aurora  de  Silva,  Colonel  Courtney,  and  others  with  whom  they 
24 


278  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

were  acquainted,  stood  waiting  for  them  to  alight.  Their  wel 
come  was  warm  and  affectionate.  Ladies  and  gentlemen  thronged 
around  to  greet  Lord  and  Lady  D.,  and  to  be  introduced  to  our 
pilgrims  ;  so  that  before  they  had  entered  the  house  they  were 
presented  to  fifty  of  its  inmates. 

When  they  were  led  into  the  mansion  by  the  count  and  Con- 
suelo,  new  wonders  of  art  and  design  met  their  admiring  eyes. 
The  hall  of  entrance  was  spacious,  lofty,  and  enriched  with 
statues,  paintings,  and  exquisite  frescoes  on  the  ceiling.  Then 
there  went  up  a  magnificent  grand  staircase  to  the  second  floor. 
And,  as  they  passed  along,  they  saw  through  the  open  doors  (for 
the  evening  was  very  warm)  beautiful  parlors,  adorned  with 
every  luxury.  In  these  were  groups  of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
Some  were  listening  to  one  reading,  and  in  another  they  were 
singing;  so  that  our  pilgrims  thought  they  had  reached  the 
Castle  of  Indolence,  or,  rather,  Palace  of  Armicla.  Frank  whis 
pered  to  Annie,  "  I  think  we  have  at  last  reached  the  Palace 
Beautiful." 

"  We  have  certainly  reached  a  beautiful  palace,"  replied 
Annie. 

Lord  and  Lady  D.  were  recognized  by  all  they  met  as  they 
passed  along ;  and  a  pleased  look  of  inquiry,  at  seeing  the  new 
comers,  told  their  gratification  with  these  new  arrivals. 

At  the  end  of  the  main  building,  on  the  second  floor,  fronting 
the  north  and  east,  were  the  apartments  of  the  count  and  Con- 
suclo,  —  a  suite  of  six  rooms ;  and  those  on  the  opposite  side 
were  appropriated  to  their  distinguished  friends,  and  our  pil 
grims.  These  opened  upon  a  flower-garden  on  the  south,  and 
the  lawn  on  the  east.  At  the  end  of  the  hall  opening  upon  the 


THE   PHALANSTERY.  279 

east  there  was  a  beautiful  and  spacious  balcony,  forming  the 
roof  of  the  portico  over  the  eastern  entrance,  which  was  so  cov 
ered  with  climbing  vines  and  flowers  as  to  form  a  fairy  bower  in 
the  air.  This  became  a  favorite  resort  to  our  ladies,  whose 
rooms  were  next  the  east  end.  Lord  and  Lady  Di.  occupied  the 
third  room,  and  the  fourth  was  the  parlor  of  the  suite,  and  oppo 
site  were  the  count  and  Consuelo's  private  apartments.  "We 
have  been  thus  particular  in  the  locality  of  our  party,  because  it 
will  explain  matters  to  be  spoken  of  hereafter.  Each  suite  had 
connecting  doors,  which  rendered  them  independent  of  the  hall, 
into  which  they  all  opened.  These  rooms  they  found  in  readiness 
for  them ;  for  they  had  sent  Theresa  and  Theodore,  with  their 
baggage,  a  day  in  advance,  so  that  their  wardrobes  might  be 
ready  for  instant  use. 

So  soon  as  they  were  dressed  they  went  into  the  private  par 
lor  of  the  count,  where  supper  was  to  be  served  them.  Here 
Consuelo  welcomed  them  to  her  private  apartments ;  and  the 
count  renewed  his  expressions  of  pleasure  in  meeting  them  at  the 
Phalanstery.  At  ten  o'clock  a  lady  and  gentleman  entered  the 
apartment,  and  announced  to  the  count  and  his  friends  that  the 
concert  was  ready  to  commence,  and  invited  their  presence. 
Lord  and  Lady  D.  rose  at  once  gladly,  and  our  pilgrims  rose ; 
when  Consuelo,  with  considerate  kindness,  said,  "  Perhaps  you 
are  too  weary  to  listen  to  music  for  this  evening  ?  "  but  they  all 
preferred  to  go  to  the  concert.  They  were  led  along  the  grand 
hall  to  a  noble  room,  in  the  west  wing  of  the  palace,  known  as 
the  concert-room.  They  were  informed  the  orchestra  was  made 
up  of  operatives,  trained  as  musicians,  and  amateurs  of  the 
Phalanx.  Of  these,  Anzoleto  was  regarded  as  the  finest  tenor. 


280  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

He  had,  in  early  life,  been  associated  in  the  opera  with  Consuelo, 
who  was  at  one  time  his  affianced  ;  but  they  had  quarrelled  and 
been  long  separated,  and  it  was  only  lately,  with  great  reluctance 
on  the  part  of  Consuelo,  he  had  been  admitted  into  the  Phalanx. 
Nor  would  he  have  been,  but  that  their  first  tenor  had  returned 
to  the  common  walks  of  his  professional  life,  and  left  a  vacancy 
hard  to  fill.  But,  as  for  Consuelo,  when  at  last  she  consented, 
she  said,  "  she  cared  nothing  for  him,  but  she  could  not  endure 
his  re  —  that  was,  indeed,  as  unbearable  as  ever."  * 

The  hall  was  filled  with  about  three  hundred  persons,  one  third 
of  whom  belonged  to  the  class  of  laborers,  dressed  very  neatly. 
They  sat  at  the  entrance  of  the  hall  on  benches ;  while  the  capi 
talists,  as  they  were  called,  whose  seats  were  cushioned  chairs, 
were  in  front  of  the  orchestra,  leaving  a  wide  space  between  the 
two  classes ;  nor  did  this  seem  anything  strange  to  our  pilgrims, 
who  were  accustomed  to  see  the  rich  in  the  best  places. 

The  concert  opened  with  a  grand  flourish  of  an  overture  of 
some  sort.  Then  several  songs  and  duos  were  sung ;  and  Con 
suelo,  who  had  disappeared  from  the  seat  beside  Gertrude, 
appeared  en  costume,  and,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  Pythoness, 

* 

*  CONSUELO,  in  cliap.  xxxvu.  of  "  Countess  du  Rudolstadt,"  as  de 
scribed  by  Madame  Sand,  when  she  is  going  through  an  ordeal  of  her 
constancy  and  devotion  to  one  whom  she  had  never  seen  (but  who  had 
rescued  her  from  prison,  and  who  kisses  her  in  the  dark,  which  one  kiss 
instantly  changes  her  whole  soul) ,  is  brought  where  she  hears  Anzoleto 
sing  ;  and  is  made  to  say,  "  Ah  !  the  bad  re  !  he  has  lost  that  note."  — 
"  Would  you  not  like  to  see  his  face?"  asks  Marcus.  Consuelo  replies, 
"  What  good  would  it  do  to  look  at  him  ?  "  She  is  induced  to  do  so.  "  He  's 
grown  very  fat !  "  said  Consuelo. 


THE   CONCERT.  281 

sung  Casta  Diva,  which  was  listened  to  on  all  sides  of  the  hall 
with  rapt  admiration  and  breathless  surprise. 

Consuelo  soon  came  back  to  her  seat  beside  Gertrude,  whose 
hand  she  took,  as  it  was  held  out  to  welcome  her.  "  Did  I  in 
any  degree  repay  you  for  the  fatigue  of  your  day's  travel  ?  " 

Gertrude  replied,  "  I  have  no  words  to  tell  you  how  your 
voice  affects  me.  I  am  entranced." 

"  Ah !  you  are  so  very  kind!  "  and,  turning  to  Annie  for  her 
response,  Annie  said,  "  To-morrow,  countess,  I  shall,  perhaps, 
recover  myself  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  command  fitting  words  to 
express  my  thanks." 

At  this  time  the  orchestra  began  to  play  a  signal  for  dancing. 
The  laborers  withdrew,  and,  the  audience  rising,  their  seats  were 
rolled  to  the  sides  of  the  hall,  and  dancing  commenced.  Many  who 
had  been  present  at  the  concert  now  left  the  hall  to  promenade 
upon  the  terraces  in  the  bright  moonlight, —  for  the  moon  had  risen, 
—  or  to  cross  the  lawn,  to  some  one  of  the  floral  temples ;  while 
others,  who  had  been  absent  from  the  concert,  now  came  in  to  share 
in  the  dance.  The  scene  in  the  hall  was  beautifully  bright  and 
gay,  as  our  friends  retired,  led  by  the  count  and  Consuelo,  to  their 
private  parlor,  where,  after  a  brief  stay,  they  bade  them  good 
night,  and  retired.  And  so  ended  the  day,  and  their  first  even 
ing  in  the  Phalanstery. 
24* 


282  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

A   DAY   AT   THE   PHALANSTERY. 

THE  next  morning,  our  pilgrims,  by  agreement,  rose  with  the 
sun,  in  order  to  get  a  sight  of  the  palace,  its  gardens  and 
grounds. 

It  stood  on  a  slope  of  land  above  the  valley.  By  labor  this 
slope  was  made  into  terraces,  which  gave  it  the  look  of  a  great 
work  of  art ;  and  the  natural  roll  of  the  land  was  everywhere 
heightened  in  its  beauty  by  a  skilful  taste  in  landscape  garden 
ing.  It  was  wonderful  how  much  had  been  done  to  add  to  the 
loveliness  of  nature,  and  with  comparatively  little  labor. 

The  lawn  upon  which  the  palace  stood  (near  eighty  acres  in 
extent)  was  embellished  by  walks,  statues,  floral  temples,  and 
fountains  constantly  playing ;  which  latter  were  supplied  by  a 
cascade,  falling  from  a  bold  mountain-cliff  into  the  valley,  in  a 
sheet  of  foam. 

The  palace  grew  upon  their  admiration.  Its  facade  was  over 
a  thousand  feet.  The  wings,  a  hundred  feet  in  width,  came 
out  in  front  two  hundred  feet,  and  ran  back  five  hundred, 
making  their  depth  seven  hundred  feet.  The  portico  pro 
jected  from  the  building,  so  as  to  give  ample  space  for  a  pave 
ment,  and  a  covered  way,  to  those  coming  up  in  carriages,  be 
neath  the  steps.  The  most  beautiful  shrubbery  and  statuary 
filled  up  the  spaces  in  front  of  the  palace.  Nor  was  this  all. 
Conservatories,  flower-gardens,  and  vegetable  gardens,  of  vast 
extent,  were  visited  by  our  pilgrims.  These  were  laid  out  in  the 


THE   PALACE.  283 

rear  of  the  palace ;  and  everywhere  the  greatest  opulence  of 
skill,  taste,  and  well-directed  labor,  was  displayed.  And,  still 
further  off,  were  numerous  extensive  buildings  for  the  several 
"  serie,"  whose  only  contribution  to  the  community  was  labor. 
These  operatives  lived  in  common,  and  united  with  the  capitalists 
only  at  festivals,  and  on  festive  occasions.  As  we  have  seen, 
some  were  admitted  to  the  concerts,  but  not  all ;  for  they  had 
their  own  assembly-rooms,  and  band,  who  played  for  them. 
Their  hours  of  amusement  ended  at  ten  o'clock,  when  the  concert 
commenced  at  the  palace,  and  a  small  portion  only  of  the  work 
ing  classes  were  each  evening  allowed  to  be  present.  Indeed,  a 
system  of  military  discipline  was  exercised  in  all  the  palace  and 
its  departments,  as  they  discovered  during  their  stay.  The  capi 
talists  were  the  overseers,  in  fact ;  and  they  acted  under  direction 
of  a  council  of  ten,  called  the  Areopagi,  of  whom  the  count  and 
Consuelo  were  chiefs. 

The  count  joined  our  pilgrims  during  their  walk,  and  expressed 
his  pleasure  at  seeing  them  out  so  early.  "  We  have,"  he  said, 
"  sought  to  form  a  Phalanstery  upon  the  plan  of  Fourier.  It  is 
not  so  large  as  the  largest  of  his  plans,  but  our  palace  enables 
us  to  accommodate  five  hundred  with  ample  halls,  parlors,  gym 
nasiums,  studios,  and  a  concert-room.  We  have  a  church  and 
opera-house,"  pointing  to  a  beautiful  classic  building  standing 
between  the  pleasure-grounds  and  the  industrial  mansions.  At 
the  count's  request  they  entered  this  building,  and  found  it  a 
spacious  opera-house,  and  nothing  like  a  church,  though  the 
count  had  for  some  reason  seen  fit  to  call  it  so. 

The  count  continued :  "  We  have  a  school  of  art,  and  another 
for  the  education  of  girls,  which  is  under  the  immediate  control 


'    284  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

and  direction  of  Consuelo.  We  take  only  those  girls  into  this 
school  who  have  completed  their  studies  elsewhere ;  and  Consuelo 
teaches  them,  what  is  little  known  in  city  schools,  the  aesthetics 
of  society,  as  well  as  the  higher  departments  of  the  fine  arts. 
The  cost  of  a  pupil  is  about  two  thousand  a  year ;  of  course," 
said  the  count,  with  a  smile,  "  we  have  only  the  elite  of  society. 
Indeed,  we  wish  to  receive  only  orphans,  because  we  do  not  want 
the  intermeddling  of  anxious  parents.  Guardians  who  want  to 
be  relieved  of  the  care  of  their  wards  send  them  here,  and  such 
we  are  alone  willing  to  receive." 

"  And  have  you  a  college  for  the  young  gentlemen  we  saw 
here  last  night  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  No !  the  young  men  you  speak  of  are  here  as  members,  or 
are  our  invited  guests,  who  spend  half  of  the  year  with  us," 
replied  the  count. 

"  And  have  they  free  access  to  your  scholars?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  Certainly ;  why  not  ?  "  asked  the  count ;  and  Annie  found 
herself  quite  at  a  loss  to  answer.  "  We  hold,"  continued  the 
count,  "  there  's  nothing  sinful  in  humanity,  but  what  has  been 
wrought  into  the  soul  by  a  degraded  social  system.  It  is  restraint 
that  provokes  the  passions.  I  believe  one  who  is  held  as  high 
authority  has  said,  somewhere,  '  I  had  not  known  sin,  but  by  the 
law.'  It  is  society-made  law  that  is  the  cause  of  all  the  sins  of 
society." 

"  Pardon  me,  count ;  but,  if  you  quote  Paul,  in  our  hearing, 
for  authority,  you  will  please  complete  the  citation,"  said  Frank. 

The  count  laughed  at  this,  and  replied  :  "  Paul  is,  indeed, 
rather  doubtful  authority  here.  It  is  a  vicious  habit  of  some  of 
our  Bostonia  friends,  which  I  have  in  this  instance  unwittingly 


"  STEALING  THE  LIVERY   OF   HEAVEN."  285 

adopted,  to  cite  a  passage  because  it  sounds  to  the  ear  clever  and 
pertinent,  without  any  regard  as  to  what  it  is  designed  to  teach 
in  the  text  out  of  which  it  is  taken." 

"  Is  not  that  '  stealing  the  livery  of  Heaven '  ?  "  asked  Annie, 
archly. 

"  I  see  I  cannot  keep  up  a  contest  of  this  sort,"  said  the  count. 
"  I  know  too  little  of  the  literature  of  which  you  speak.  But, 
let  me  say  this  :  I  hope  your  stay  here  will  be  pleasant  to  you, 
as  it  certainly  will  be  to  us ;  and,  while  here,  I  say,  once  for  all, 
use  the  largest  liberty,  at  all  times  and  in  all  places."  And,  with 
a  bow,  the  count  left  them. 


CHAPTER    LV. 

THE    EMPLOYMENTS   AND   ENJOYMENTS  AT   A    PHALANSTERY. 

AT  eight  o'clock  a  bell  rang,  and  Theresa  came  out  to  them  as 
they  were  returning,  and  informed  them  that  they  would  barely 
have  time  to  prepare  for  breakfast,  which  took  place  at  half-past 
eight.  They  hastened  to  their  rooms  accordingly,  and  were 
dressed,  as  Theresa  thought  proper,  in  purest  white,  with  a  pale- 
blue  silk  scarf  around  the  neck. 

Lord  and  Lady  DielincoDur  were  ready,  and  waited  for  them 
in  their  parlor ;  and  at  half-past  eight  the  count  and  lady,  and 
Lord  D.  and  his  party,  descended  to  the  breakfast-room.  It  was 


286  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

a  grand  and  lofty  saloon ;  the  walls  were  filled  with  mirrors,  and 
the  compartments  of  the  ceilings  were  painted  with  wonderful 
beauty.  The  tables  were  set  for  four  hundred  or  more,  and  ran 
parallel  with  each  other.  The  end  table  stood  on  a  dais  reached 
by  two  steps ;  and  at  this  were  the  seats  of  the  count  and  the 
Areopagi,  and  of  Lord  D.  and  his  party,  facing  the  company. 
The  tables  were  covered  with  beautiful  china  and  plate,  and  vases 
filled  with  flowers,  which  shed  their  sweet  perfume  upon  the  air. 
The  ventilation  was  perfect ;  for  a  steam-engine  wrought  a  change 
in  the  air  of  the  apartment  every  instant.  This  the  count  spoke 
of  as  one  of  his  grandest  improvements,  that,  by  the  mighty 
energy  of  this  steam  giant,  the  atmosphere  was  constantly  chang 
ing  over  the  whole  building.  We  regret  the  working  plans  of 
this  part  of  the  machinery  of  the  Phalanstery  are  not  at  hand  for 
the  benefit  of  all  builders  of  hotels  and  other  great  edifices  in  our 
land. 

The  breakfast  saloon  was  already  partially  filled  by  the  Pha 
lanx  when  the  count  entered;  and,  immediately  after,  all  the 
inmates  came  in,  when  the  company  took  their  seats.  Our  ladies 
were  surprised  to  see  the  variety  of  costumes  worn.  Some  were 
in  Swiss  dresses,  others  in  classic  robes  of  Greece,  and,  indeed, 
any  dress  that  chanced  to  please  the  fancy.  The  scholars  were 
all  dressed  in  white,  with  blue  silk  aprons.  They  sat  mixed  up 
among  the  communists  and  young  gentlemen  as  it  pleased  them, 
and  the  utmost  familiarity  consistent  with  high-bred  courtesy 
prevailed  at  the  breakfast-table. 

This  company,  Consuelo  informed  Frank,  who  sat  near  her, 
consisted  of  the  several  serie  of  a  Phalanstery.  "  The  youngest 
of  these  young  ladies,"  said  Consuelo,"  "  wearing  white  flowers  in 


OF   VESTALS   AND    OTHERS.  287 

their  hair,  bear  the  sweet  title  of  vestals  ;  those  who  wear  roses 
in  their  hair  have  entered  the  class  of  damoisellate,  implying  that 
they  have  ceased  to  be  vestals,  and  have  entered  the  higher  walks 
of  life ;  and  those  more  mature  are  known  to  be  the  feates, 
faquirates,  and  pivotals,  the  last  of  whom  have  obtained  what  is 
regarded  among  us  as  a  rarity  —  '  the  composite  of  constancy.' " 
Frank  listened  attentively,  but  comprehended  very  little  of  all 
this.* 

After  breakfast  the  company  thronged  about  the  portico,  and 
in  the  walks,  amid  flowers  and  statues,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
projecting  wings  of  the  palace,  till  the  bell  struck  ten,  when  the 
groups  separated.  The  scholars  and  teachers  went  to  the  acad 
emy,  a  building  in  the  rear  of  the  palace  ;  and  young  ladies  with 
large  plaited  straw  hats,  and  gloves  which  covered  up  their  arms, 
accompanied  by  young  gentlemen  who  bore  portfolios,  accoutred 
for  a  tramp  in  the  woods,  started  with  their  teachers  in  drawing, 
botany,  and  mineralogy.  Others  repaired  to  their  several  duties, 
for  everybody  must  do  something.  "Work  was  honorable  in  the 
Phalanstery ;  and  everybody  was  expected  to  labor  in  some  de 
partment  of  art  or  science.  There  were  many  who  were  occupied 
in  the  arts  of  design  ;  and  the  studios  of  sculpture  and  painting 
were  both  extensive.  To  these  our  friends  went,  by  invitation  of 
ladies  engaged  in  these  pursuits.  They  found  ladies,  whose  short 
tunics  and  bare  arms  suited  their  labor,  at  work  moulding  in 
clay,  or  working  upon  busts  with  the  mallet  and  chisel ;  and  in 

*  Should  our  readers  share  in  Frank's  dubiety,  they  must  read  "  Love 
in  the  Phalanstery,"  by  Victor  Hennequin,  translated  from  the  French, 
and  published  by  De  Witt  and  Davenport,  Tribune  Buildings,  New  York. 
They  will  find  in  this  treatise  many  things  hard  to  be  understood. 


288  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

the  same  studio  with,  gentlemen  engaged  in  similar  labors,  and 
often  working  together  upon  the  same  statue.  These  gentlemen 
wore  paper  caps  and  white  linen  jackets.  This  building  was 
called  the  Atelier  de  Sculpture,  and  professors  were  present  to 
counsel  the  scholars.  It  was  attractive  labor ;  and  the  sight 
was  one  of  exceeding  interest.  Our  gentlemen  wondered  that  the 
ennui  of  women  in  fashionable  life  was  never  cured  by  like 
devotion  to  the  arts  of  design,  sculpture  especially,  as  it  afforded 
some  exercise  to  the  muscles  of  the  chest  and  arms.  In  the 
school  of  painting  they  found  a  larger  number  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  employed  at  work  with  the  pencil,  under  direction  of 
professors.  Some  of  the  paintings  were  large  historical  pieces, 
designed  for  the  walls  of  the  house,  illustrating  the  happy  results 
of  Fourierism ;  and,  if  the  pencil  and  the  imagination  of  these 
artiste  could  be  trusted,  the  way  to  restore  the  world  to  its  golden 
age  would  be  to  adopt  the  philosophy  of  Fourier,. and  burn  up  all 
the  Bibles. 

From  these  "ateliers"  of  the  arts  of  design,  where. all  seemed 
so  happy,  and  where  literature  and  labor  were  so  happily  united, 
our  party  went  into  the  library,  another  spacious  hall,  lighted 
from  the  roof,  having  two  galleries,  and  said  to  contain  a  hundred 
thousand  volumes  of  selected  works  in  all  languages.  But,  like 
books  in  the  famous  library  of  the  Vatican,  they  were  all  under 
lock  and  key ;  and,  when  they  asked  for  the  keys  to  some  of  the 
cases,  the  librarian  said  those  keys  were  mislaid;  and,  as  for  any 
use  made  of  the  books  in  both  libraries,  they  might  have  been 
long  ago  reduced  to  ashes.  They  found  that  the  inmates  of 
this  Phalanstery  were  monks  and  nuns  in  many  particulars,  and 
in  none  more  entirely  than  in  the  confidence  they  expressed 


THE   SCHOOL    OF   DESIGN.  289 

in  the  infallibility  of  Charles  Fourier  and  Victor  Considerant. 
The  only  exception  to  the  locked  doors  were  those  compartments 
devoted  to  literature,  the  fine  arts,  and  history.  It  was  Annie's 
opinion  that  most  of  the  books  they  got  a  glimpse  of  through  the 
latticed  cases  were  to  be  regarded  rather  as  specimens  of  the  art 
of  design  than  as  leather  and  prunella  books.  But  Frank  said 
money  had  been  expended  so  profusely  in  everything  else,  he 
could  not  believe  it  was  show  and  parade  only  in  the  library ; 
but,  inasmuch  as  the  keys  were  never  found  during  their  stay,  the 
doubt  was  never  resolved. 

Leaving  their  wives,  Oliver  and  Frank  went  into  the  rear 
workshops,  and  also  the  dairy  and  stables.  In  the  stables  near 
one  hundred  pleasure-horses  were  kept  for  the  drones  of  this  bee 
hive.  There  were,  too,  mills  for  the  manufacture  of  all  kinds  of 
agricultural  implements,  pails,  wooden- ware ;  and  a  smith's  shop, 
where  all  manner  of  ironwork  was  done  for  farmers  and  for  farm 
ing.  Nor  did  they  forget  the  gas-works,  so  needed  to  gratify  the 
love  of  light  manifested  in  the  palace ;  and  certainly  the  taste  and 
disposition  of  this  luxury  of  luxuries  became  a  matter  of  their 
increasing  admiration. 

Mounting  saddle-horses  provided  for  them,  they  rode  over  the 
valley,  and  in  every  direction  they  discovered  the  beautiful 
results  of  science  and  skill  subduing  nature,  and  making  this  a 
miniature  of  the  Happy  Valley  of  Rasselas. 

Dinner  was  served  at  five.  The  schools  and  ateliers  of  art,, 
and  all  occupations  in  the  palace,  ended  with  three  o'clock,  and 
the  studios  were  deserted  for  the  seclusion  of  their  several  rooms, 
where  a  grand  toilet  was  the  important  task  of  the  hour.  The 
bells  rang  at  half-past  four,  and  all  assembled  in  the  parlors  and 
25 


290  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

halls,  and  about  the  entrances  and  porticos  of  the  building ;  and 
when  five  o'clock  struck,  the  great  doors  were  thrown  open,  and 
the  count  and  Consuelo,  and  their  especial  friends,  entered 
first. 

The  scene  was  greatly  changed  from  that  at  the  breakfast-table. 
Not  only  was  the  effect  of  the  toilet  to  be  seen  and  felt,  but 
behind  each  chair  there  stood  two  children, —  a  girl  and 
a  boy, —  in  a  fanciful  costume,  belonging  to  the  order  of 
Gherubins  and  Cherubines,  and  Seraphins  and  Seraphines,  whose 
ages  ranged  from  twelve  to  sixteen.  These  served  the  guests 
with  water,  wines,  bread,  and  sueh-like  little  offices,  and  re 
mained  the  sole  attendants  after  the  dessert  was  placed  upon 
the  table. 

The  dinner  was  the  important  event  in  the  day,  and  was  gone 
through  with  as  dinners  deserve  to  be.  At  seven  the  company 
rose  and  went  into  the  parlors,  where  coffee  was  served  by  these 
beautiful  girls  and  boys,  whose  fairy -like  gracefulness  and  admir 
able  training  was  not  the  least  charm  of  the  repast.  The  evening 
passed  as  the  one  before.  At  one  o'clock  the  music  ceased,  and 
the  dancing  was  discontinued.  The  guests  dispersed  to  walk  the 
halls,  the  lawns,  or  to  do  whatever  else  they  pleased.  It  was  the 
custom  of  the  count  and  Consuelo  to  retire  at  twelve,  an  example 
followed  by  most  of  the  communists. 

If  the  Areopagi  had  much  to  talk  over  in  secret,  so  had  our 
pilgrims,  who  retired  to  their  chambers  so  soon  as  dancing  com 
menced. 

The  costliness  of  such  an  establishment  was  immense,  and  the 
luxury  of  the  palace  was  great.  The  only  expenses,  however, 
outside  the  valley,  were  for  articles  of  foreign  manufacture. 


LABOR  HONORABLE.  291 

Everything  else  —  the  making  of  dresses,  shoes,  gloves  —  was  all 
done  at  the  Phalanstery,  and  charged  to  the  consumer  at  fixed 
prices.  There  was  on  all  hands  an  air  of  constraint ;  even  those 
who  did  nothing  useful  were  required  to  wear  the  aspect  of 
labor ;  they  must  do  something,  and  never  interfere,  during  labor 
hours,  with  those  occupied  around  them.  If  they  could  get  their 
hearts  into  the  studies,  it  was  well  —  such  were  fortunate.  But 
if  this  was  not  so,  if  it  was  drudgery  to  them,  drudgery  it  must 
be,  —  labor  they  must. 

Oliver  thought  this  a  wise  arrangement,  and  cited  Dr.  Watts 
as  authority  about  the  "  manifest  destiny  "  of  idle  hands ;  and 
our  ladies  also  had  some  things  to  say  about  the  freedom  of 
the  girls  and  gentlemen,  whether  young  or  old ;  but  they  con 
fessed  they  had  seen  nothing,  only  they  had  intuitions;  and, 
when  asked  to  explain,  they  kept  silent.  It  was  at  the  close 
of  a  long  confab,  one  night,  that  Annie  ventured  so  far  as  to  say, 
"  All  is  not  gold  that  glitters." 

"  0,  Mrs.  Sancho  Panza !  "  exclaimed  Oliver,  whisking  Annie 
out  of  Gertrude's  room,  as  he  bade  Frank  and  Gertrude  "  good 
night." 


292  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

THE    MYSTERIES    OF    THE    PHALANSTERY   BEGIN    TO    OPEN. 

WE  have  forgotten  to  advise  our  readers  that  Lord  and  Lady 
Pielincoeur  received  dispatches  from  Count  de  Ville,  which 
rendered  their  return  to  Vanity  Fair  imperatively  necessary. 
Our  pilgrims,  at  first,  resolved  to  return  with  them ;  but  this  was 
opposed  warmly  by  the  count  and  Consuelo  ;  by  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Courtney,  who  had  now  become  boarders  for  the  summer  ;  by 
Aurora  de  Silva,  and  a  beautiful  creature  whose  name  was 
Armida  d'Alembert,  who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  our  pil 
grims.  These  all  urged  them  to  stay.  The  count  took  our 
gentlemen  aside,  and  said  :  "  It  may  be  you  are  unwilling  to 
remain  here  as  guests.  If  so,  stay  and  retain  the  entire  suite  of 
rooms,  and  pay  into  our  treasury  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a 
week  for  the  party,  servants  included,  and  also  for  a  free  use  of 
the  horses  for  yourselves  and  ladies." 

This  was  the  real  point  of  embarrassment ;  and,  at  this  price, 
which  did  not  seem  exorbitant,  they  agreed  to  remain  a  while 
longer,  well  content  to  be  no  longer  guests,  but  inmates  of  the 
palace  for  the  time  being ;  and  they  hoped  now  to  find  them 
selves  more  at  home  there. 

The  days  passed  along  in  various  occupations ;  for  the  count 
and  Consuelo  tasked  themselves  and  others  to  diversify  their 
pursuits,  and  keep  them  happily  occupied.  Indeed,  there  was  a 
reason  to  win  them,  for  the  treasury  of  the  association  had  need 
of  converts  known  to  possess  large  wealth.  A  Phalanstery  and 
a  monastery,  though  very  different  in  their  outward  aspect,  have 


ARMIDA  D'ALEMBERT.  293 

many  things  in  common.  There  is  a  despotism,  unacknowledged, 
but  felt,  among  their  victims.  The  monk  relinquishes  all  his 
estates  to  his  monastery ;  the  Fourierist  takes  stock  in  the  Pha 
lanstery.  In  the  Phalanx,  as  in  monasteries  and  convents,  the 
rich  are  always  deemed  desirable  converts.  And  the  plans  of 
the  Areopagi  of  the  Phalanx  are  wisely  and  warmly  promoted 
by  their  inmates;  though  nothing  of  this  was  to  be  seen,  to 
awaken  suspicion,  or  to  shock  the  susceptibilities  of  our  party. 

If  our  pilgrims  found  the  dialect  of  the  Tremont  House  some 
what  difficult  to  comprehend,  they  were  more  puzzled  by  what 
they  were  told  at  the  palace.  Frank  and  Arinida  d'Alembert 
were  walking  one  night  on  the  lawn,  gazing  upwards  upon  the 
milky-way,  just  then  above  them  with  its  broad  belt  of  star- 
dust,  when  Armida,  leaning  on  Frank's  arm,  discoursed  softly 
and  gracefully  of  the  harmony  of  the  universe,  one  and  alike, 
great  in  little,  and  vast  in  immensity.  The  papillon,  forever 
alternating,  interlocking  groups  and  series  of  men  and  worlds  in 
an  infinite  chain  of  a  serial  unity,  the  elements  of  perpetual 
circles,  multiform  and  mixed,  which  nourish  all  things,  forever 
changing,  and  in  every  change  hymning 

"  New  songs  to  their  great  Maker's  still  new  praise." 

Now,  we  leave  this  to  our  reader  to  say,  if,  under  like 
circumstances  with  Frank,  standing  in  front  of  a  magnifi 
cent  palace,  upon  a  lawn  cropped  and  swept  as  Paradise 
never  was,  in  a  star-lit  night,  with  floral  temples  around,  each 
with  its  shaded  lamp  burning,  and  a  beautiful  creature  of 
life  and  beauty  saying  all  this  in  a  voice  of  sweetest  har 
mony,  if  his  imagination  would  not  have  been  taken  captive ; 
25* 


294  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

if  lie  would  not  have  felt,  as  Frank  did  on  this  occasion,  that 
all  this  was  very  pious,  and  Armida  one  of  the  angels,  whose 
elevation  of  soul  he  admired,  though  what  she  said  he  could 
not  comprehend.  But  no  matter  for  that.  It  was  sweet, 
sweetly  said  by  the  most  beautiful  lady  in  the  Phalanx ;  and,  if 
he  did  not  so  perfectly  understand  all  the  ideas,  he  came  to  some 
realization  of  the  tones,  and  of  looks  more  eloquent  than  words. 

One  single  exhibition  of  these  "  arts  of  design,"  understood 
and  practised  by  these  fascinating  people,  is  all  we  purpose  to 
exhibit.  They  were  as  various  as  the  gifted  gentlemen  and 
ladies  by  whom  they  were  practised.  It  was  their  habit  to  speak 
of  society  as  groping  along  in  Egyptian  darkness  till  the  sun  of 
Fourier  arose,  when  the  statue  of  Memnon  gave  forth  its  har 
monies.  And  then  there  was  a  great  deal  said  about  harmonies, 
and  the  musical  scale,  as  typical  of  the  hidden  harmony  of  the 
passions,  and  the  harmony  of  the  passional  tendencies  ;  the  per 
fection  of  which  was  to  be  now  made  manifest  to  the  world  in 
the  workings  of  this  Phalanx,  which  had  been  erected  to  solve 
the  enigma  of  life.  Our  pilgrims  were  certainly  wonder-struck 
at  the  wonder-working  scheme,  as  it  lay  in  the  mind  of  Fourier. 
There  was  far  more  in  it  than  they  at  first  believed ;  and  they 
came  to  a  due  appreciation  of  his  great  intellect  and  ingenuity. 
But  there  was  one  objection  to  it  all,  and  that  was  fatal  in  their 
minds.  It  was  this  :  The  Bible  and  Fourier  were  at  war.  Noth 
ing  could  be  more  directly  opposed  to  each  other ;  and  our  pil 
grims  were  not  ready  to  relinquish  their  Guide-book. 

The  sort  of  initiation  which  our  gentlemen  were  put  through, 
under  the  direction  of  Armida  and  Aurora  de  Silva,  was  very 
unlike  that  to  which  their  ladies  were  subjected.  Henry  Vcrnon, 


WOMAN  A  SLAVE.  295 

a  young  gentleman  of  the  Phalanx,  and  Colonel  Oakley,  also  a 
member  of  the  Phalanx,  both  of  them  possessed  of  young  and 
beautiful  wives,  became,  little  by  little,  the  companions  of  Annie 
and  Gertrude.  Often  in  company  with  their  wives  —  always 
so  at  first  —  but  by  degrees  the  wives,  if  they  set  out  with  them 
on  a  ride  on  horseback,  rarely  kept  company  long,  being  led  off 
by  their  attendants,  or  leading  off  their  attendants,  just  as  freak 
or  fancy  swayed  at  the  instant.  These  gentlemen  had  a  great 
deal  to  say  about  "  the  deplorable  condition  of  women,  the  con 
sequences  of  isolation  and  familism  ;  how  that  woman,  so  long 
as  she  was  chained  by  ties  which  were  imposed  by  law,  rather 
than  love,  was  only  a  slave,  whether  consciously  or  not  —  noth 
ing  but  a  slave.  Her  beautiful  soul  could  never  become  com 
plete  in  its  development ;  for  that,  there  must  be  freedom.  And, 
as  there  is  no  greater  expression  of  the  debasement  consequent 
on  a  life  of  slavery  than  when  the  slave  is  in  love  with  his 
chains,  so  of  woman,  happy  in  ties  that  debase  her,"  There  had 
been  a  sort  of  spell  upon  our  ladies,  and  they  could  not  get  at 
the  ideas  they  found  suggested,  which  were  withdrawn,  modified, 
changed,  renewed,  and  never  came  to  a  tangible  embodiment. 
One  day,  as  they  sat  together  in  one  of  the  floral  temples,  in 
company  with  other  gentlemen,  Colonel  Oakley  said  the  words, 
"  So  of  woman,  happy  in  ties  that  debase  her." 

Annie  asked,  "  What  ties  do  you  speak  of,  colonel  ?  Let  us 
unmask,  and,  if  you  have  any  meaning  to  your  words,  speak  out, 
so  that  your  words  shall  no  longer  be  veils  to  your  thoughts." 

Encouraged  by  this  frankness,  Colonel  Oakley  said,  "  I  refer 
to  the  bond  of  wedlock,  wherever  and  whenever  it  ceases  to  be 
the  bond  of  love." 


296  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  bondage,"  replied  Annie ;  "  and  I  do 
know  something  of  love.  If  you  please,  we  will  waive  this  sub 
ject  till  it  shall  become  as  attractive  to  me  as  now  it  is  hateful." 

The  colonel  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  at  once  began  to 
speak  of  a  picture  he  had  just  received  from  Vanity  Fair.  On 
retiring  to  their  parlor,  Annie  told  our  gentlemen  of  their  collo 
quy,  and  her  purpose  to  hear  no  more  of  such  discussion ;  as  for 
any  reorganization  of  society,,  which  should  destroy  the  existence 
of  families,  and  the  relations  of  husbands  and  wives,  she  would 
not  listen  to  it. 

It  became  a  habit  of  our  pilgrims  to  spend  much  of  their  time 
together  every  day,  comparing  notes,  and  learning  what  they 
could  of  this  new  system  of  social  life. 

The  communists  had  many  fete-da}^ ;  and  upon  such  occasions 
the  whole  of  the  series  were  united  in  festivities.  These,  during 
our  pilgrims'  stay,  wore  the  character  of  floral  processions,  in 
which  all  the  Phalanx  united,  from  the  count  and  Consuelo 
down  to  the  dirtiest  of  the  "  Little  Hordes."  It  was  a  beautiful 
sight,  and  attended  with  a  variety  of  mano3uvres  full  of  grace 
and  beauty.  Commencing  with  a  procession  of  boys  and  girls  of 
the  several  serie,  known  as  the  Gymnasians  and  Gy?nnasie?mes, 
Lyceans  and  Lycee?ines,  Seraphins  and  Serapkines,  Cherulins 
and  Cherubines,  and  the  higher  orders  of  Vestals  and  Damoiselles, 
Angelicates,  Feates,  Faquirates,  and  last  of  all  those  who  had 
reached  the  transcendental  condition  of  Pivatates,  or,  in  common 
parlance,  chastity.* 

*  The  idea  of  constancy  between  one  woman  and  one  man  is  so  hostile 
to  the  system  of  Fourier,  that  it  is  not  to  be  tolerated.  And  the  reason 
could  be  easily  shown,  but  it  is  a  delicate  subject  to  handle.  Victor 


A   GALA  DAY.  297 

The  first  they  witnessed  was  led  by  Consuelo,  dressed  in  robes 
of  silver,  drawn  in  a  gilded  chariot,  by  white  horses,  who  were 
garlanded  with  flowers,  followed  by  these  orders  of  children,  in 
their  gala  dresses,  and  by  the  higher  orders  of  the  palace,  and 
the  young  gentlemen  and  scholars  ;  then  came  the  choir  and  the 
band,  sometimes  singing  alone,  sometimes  playing  alone,  or 
together ;  and  finally,  in  the  opera-house,  and  in  halls  of  the 
working  series,  the  entire  Phalanx  were  occupied  with  what  was 
called  the  Cherograpkic  Intervention  of  all  sexes  and  ages,  com 
bining  singing,  instrumental  music,  poetical  recitations,  panto 
mime,  dancing,  and  gymnastics.  These  ended  in  a  feast,  served 
first  to  the  working  classes,  next  to  the  children,  and  last  of  all 
to  the  capitalists  in  the  palace.  Sometimes  a  lecture  was  deliv 
ered  by  the  count  or  Consuelo,  in  the  opera-house ;  when  any 
amount  of  "  darkness  visible  "  was  to  be  realized  while  the  count 
or  Consuelo  discoursed  upon  Fourierism,  showing  that  Attractions 
are  proportional  to  Destinies,  and  the  method  in  which  the  Series 
distribute  the  Harmonies  of  the  Universe.  Developing  the  law 
of  life,  and  the  laws  regulating  life  ;  and,  having  laid  down  and 
explained  these  grand  -pivotal  axioms,  thence  going  on  to  the 
consideration  of  pivotal  or  collective  attraction,  or  the  love  of 
universal  harmony  and  unity,  of  the  distributive  afiections,  and 

Hennequin,  whose  tract,  entitled  "Love  in  the  Phalanstery,"  is  pub 
lished  by  De  Witt  &  Davenport,  says,  page  22  : 

"  The  series  of  the  Pivotate  combines,  with  a  durable  sentiment,  some 
caprices  and  fantasies.  .  .  .  The  Pivotate  has  an  analogy  in  music  to 
those  sustained  chords  which  prolong  themselves,  by  becoming  married  to 
transient  modulations."  Fourier  has  made  an  analysis  of  this  special 
series,  or  rather  of  its  germ. 


298  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

of  the  composite  love  of  accords ;  of  contrasted  and  identical 
elements ;  of  the  combinations  of  two  or  more  functions  or 
pleasures  as  a  source  of  joy ;  of  the  attraction  of  industry, 
and  the  love  of  divine  order ;  of  serfhood  or  bondage ;  of  simplism 
and  of  seriesteries,  and  the  like. 

Those  of  our  readers  who  have  seen  the  love  of  regalia,  such 
as  worked  aprons,  gilt  rods,  and  gilt  rams'  horns,  in  the  streets 
of  our  cities,  worn  by  hard-working  men,  all  bedizened  with 
fringes  of  gold  and  scarlet  sashes,  will  not  wonder  at  the  success 
with  which  powerful  minds  controlled  the  working  classes  of  a 
Phalanx. 

Was  it  a  happy  community?  Was  it  prosperous?  These 
were  queries  to  be  solved.  Frank  held  that,  as  water  will  rise 
to  a  level  with  its  source,  so  will  principles  find  expression  in 
appropriate  actions.  "  As  a  man  thinketh,  so  is  he." 

"  It  is  my  belief,"  said  Frank,  one  day,  to  Oliver,  "  that  we 
are  not  at  what  old  Bunyan  would  have  called  '  the  Palace 
Beautiful,'  but  rather  in  the  '  Castle  of  Despair.' " 

But  Oliver  hoped  for  better  things  ;  for  there  was  certainly  a 
very  great  degree  of  refinement  and  propriety  in  all  that  was  to 
be  seen  ;  and  "  why  should  we  not  hope,"  asked  Oliver,  "  that 
the  source  is  as  pure  as  its  expression  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Oliver,"  said  Frank,  "  have  you  listened  to  all  the 
witchery  of  these  women,  unconscious  of  their  aims?  Wake 
up,  Oliver  !  wake  up  ! "  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder.  And 
Oliver  did  wake  up  to  recollections  he  had  never  before  fairly 
looked  in  the  face.  So  easily  are  strong-minded  men  hood 
winked. 

Once  awake,  Oliver  did  not  go  to  sleep  ;  and  Aurora  de  Silva, 


THE   LITTLE   HORDES.  299 

if  she  found  him  as  docile  as  before,  found  him  no  longer  a  sim 
ple-minded  dupe.  If  she  was  magnificent  in  her  dress  and 
impressive  in  her  manner,  all  her  arts,  every  gaze,  and  every 
soft  pressure  of  the  hand,  now  wore  quite  a  new  aspect. 

"  Such  stupid,  unimpressible  men,"  said  Armida  to  the  count, 
"  I  never  met  with  before !  I  have  done  my  best  with  that 
handsome  fool  of  a  husband,  and  Aurora  tells  me  she  has  had  no 
success.  They  are  really  enamored  of  their  wives,  and  will  be  to 
the  end  of  their  lives." 

"  Never  despair ! "  said  the  count.  "  How  do  Oakley  and 
Yernon  get  on  with  the  wives  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Armida, 

"  Ah,  well !  "  he  replied,  "  they  must  wait  for  your  success. 
A  woman  wronged  will  do  in  her  rage  what  she  would  never 
dream  of  in  calmer  moo<Js." 

"  Prenez  garde,  Monsieur  le  Count ! "  cried  Armida ;  and, 
touching  the  count's  arm  with  her  finger  significantly,  she  left  him 
suddenly. 


CHAPTER    LVII. 

OF   THE    "LITTLE   HORDES." 

ONE  morning,  as  the  day  was  just  breaking,  Oliver,  started, 
with  his  mallet  and  leathern  pouch,  on  a  mineralogical  excur 
sion,  was  passing  along  before  one  of  the  dormitories  of  the 
operatives,  when  he  met  a  man  who  stood  blowing  a  horn  before 
an  open  door. 


300  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"  Who  are  you  rousing  up  so  early  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

"  The  little  hordes,"  was  the  man's  reply. 

"  And  who  are  these,  and  what  do  they  do  at  this  early 
hour  ?  " 

"  The  little  hordes  are  children  of  poor  people,  who  have,  or 
ought  to  have,  a  love  of  filth.  They  rise,  sir,  at  this  hour,  for 
cleaning  out  the  kitchen-sewer,  which  might  as  well  be  kept  clean 
by  the  waste  water  of  the  house  as  by  these  children,  but  that 
would  not  be  according  to  the  theory ;  and,  sir,"  said  the  man, 
with  a  sneering  laugh,  "  there 's  nothing  like  working  out  a 
system  in  a  Phalanstery." 

As  he  spoke,  as  many  as  fifty  children  came  tumbling  down 
the  stairs,  boys  and  girls,  half  naked,  crying  and  whimpering 
at  being  rudely  waked  up  and  driven  down  stairs  by  the  watch 
of  the  ward,  whose  duty  it  was  to  see  the  horn  promptly 
answered. 

"  Come  on,  you  rascals  !  "  said  the  man,  cracking  his  whip 
over  their  heads  ;  "  show  yourselves  active,  and  let  this  gentleman 
see  your  zeal  for  the  true  theory  of  society." 

The  children  gathered  around  Oliver,  as  if  he  could  interpose 
in  some  way  to  save  them  from  the  man  and  the  whip. 

"  My  children,"  said  Oliver,  "  do  you  love  this  work  ?  " 

"  0,  no,  no  !  we  hate  it !  "  said  the  boys. 

"0,  it  is  dreadful  !  "  said  the  girls ;  "  we  don't  want  to 
belong  to  the  '  little  hordes  ; '  we  want  to  be  Incense-bearers,  or 
Florists,  or  Cherubines ;  but  the  overseers  say  somebody  must  love 
dirt,  and,  because  we  are  not  pretty,  we  must  be  scavengers." 

"  Can  it  be  so  ?  "  asked  Oliver  of  the  man. 

"  We  never  think   here,  sir.     That  has  been   done  for  us. 


WORKING  OUT  A  THEORY.  301 

What  we  operatives  do  is  to  obey  orders,  and  work  out  the  sys 
tem  ;  and  my  business  is  to  clean  out  the  sewers,  and  I  shall  do 
it !  Go  ahead  !  "  and,  cracking  his  whip  fiercely,  the  children  ran 
on  toward  the  palace  kitchens. 

Oliver  followed  to  see  how  this  work  was  dona  When  the 
children  were  passing  an  outbuilding,  they  all  ran  in,  and  each 
brought  out  a  little  hoe  about  two  feet  long ;  and  when  they  all 
stood  around  the  mouth  of  the  sewer,  they  waited  crouching  and 
horrified  at  what  was  to  be  done.  "  John  Armsley,  it  is  your 
turn  to  go  in  first.  Sally  Jenkins,  follow  ;  "  —  and  so  it  was,  as 
their  names  were  called,  these  poor  little  wretches  crawled  in, 
and  soon  the  result  of  their  labor  was  seen.  And,  at  the  end 
of  an  hour,  when  the  sun  was  rising,  these  poor  children  emerged 
once  more  to  breathe  the  air  of  heaven,  covered  all  over  with 
filth ;  and  then  the  wheelbarrows  were  brought  forth  from  the 
barn,  and  these,  when  filled,  were  trundled  to  a  heap  of  compost ; 
and  when  this -was  done,  the  wheelbarrows,  shovels,  and  hoes,  were 
restored  to  their  places.  The  man  then  marched  them  to  a  shed, 
in  which  was  a  vast  tub,  into  which  all  their  clothes  were  thrown, 
and  washed  by  the  action  of  a  huge  revolving  wheel ;  and  then 
boys  and  girls  all  jumped  into  a  tank  of  water,  after  which 
they  put  on  a  nice  clean  dress,  for  it  was  to  be  a  festive  day. 
And  these  self-same  children,  with  garlands  and  banners  full 
of  glee,  were  seen  in  the  procession  of  the  day  without  one  trace 
of  sorrow  upon  their  glad  faces.  So  happy  is  childhood !  ^ 

*  Brisbane  has  translated  from  Fourier,  in  his  work  on  Association,  a 

chapter  entitled  "  The  Little  Hordes,"  in  which  we  are  told  by  this 

great  man  that  "  repugnant,  disgusting  and  degrading  occupations,  which 

in  civilization  are  overcome  by  pay,  are  surmounted  in  the  social  mechan- 

26 


802  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER  LYIII. 

LIFE   AT   THE    PHALANSTERY. 

OUR  ladies  were  not  so  unconscious  of  the  atmosphere  into 
which  they  had  entered  as  they  were  willing  their  husbands 
should  believe  them  to  be.  It  is  hardly  possible  for  a  woman  to 
be  hoodwinked  when  those  she  loves  are  the  objects  of  seductive 
arts.  Among  the  first  observations  they  made  were  these : 
How  few  were  married  in  comparison  with  the  number  of  the 
Associationists,  and  how  few  children  there  were  in  the  pal 
ace,  and  how  little  interest  the  parents  manifested  for  their 
children.  But  to  these  young  wives  nothing  was  half  so  won 
derful  as  what  became  of  the  babies.  They  saw,  in  the  saloons, 
or  on  the  porch,  the  bonnins  all  so  nicely  dressed,  bringing  the 
infants  and  older  children  to  their  parents,  who  fondled  them 
a  while,  but,  when  dinner  was  announced,  gave  up  their  babies 

ism  by  attraction."  And  he  says  :  "  The  whole  system  of  Attractive 
Industry  would  fall  prostrate  if  means  were  not  found  to  effect  this." 
And  he  goes  on  to  say,  in  the  course  of  that  chapter,  what  is  doubtless 
true,  "  This  enigma  cannot  be  solved  in  civilization  ;  Association  explains 
it.  The  taste  for  dirt  is  to  enlist  children  in  the  corporation  of  Little 
Hordes,  to  induce  them  to  undergo  gayly  the  disgust  connected  with  dirty 
work,  and  to  open  for  themselves  in  filthy  functions  a  vast  career  of 
industrial  glory  and  unitary  philanthropy." 

We  have  sought  to  present  a  picture  naturally  arising  out  of  a  system 
likely  to  spread  in  some  shape  and  to  some  extent  over  our  land.  And 
we  now  ask  the  question,  If  the  system  of  Fourierism  rests  upon  the 
love  of  dirt  in  children,  is  Fourierism  true  or  not  ? 


COLONEL  AND  MRS.  COURTNEY.         308 

and  little  ones  to  their  attendants,  and  saw  them  no  more  for 
that  day. 

Among  these  mothers  there  was  one  exception,  and  that  was 
Mrs.  Courtney,  to  whom  they  had  been  introduced  at  Lady  Di.'s 
May  party.  It  was  then  the  colonel  met  Aurora  for  the  first 
time ;  and,  from  that  hour,  she  had  exerted  over  him  the  witch 
ery  of  a  Circe ;  yet  she  treated  him  with  no  peculiar  regard  in 
public.  In  the  saloons  she  rather  sought  to  avoid  his  attentions ; 
sheltering  herself  under  the  care  of  Oliver  and  Annie,  to  whom 
she  paid  great  court.  And  so  this  lady  was  well  thought  of  by 
Annie  and  Gertrude,  and  by  Oliver  in  particular,  as  we  have 
already  intimated.  Why  this  was,  we  may  discover  hereafter. 
There  are  ladies  now,  as  in  the  days  of  Pope,  who  "  never  drink 
a  cup  of  tea  without  a  stratagem." 

Colonel  Courtney  had  come  out  with  his  lady  and  child  to  the 
Association,  ostensibly  on  account  of  the  health  of  the  child. 
It  was  truly  so  with  the  sweet  mother ;  and  the  colonel  had 
hardly  analyzed  his  motives  at  that  time.  His  child  was  sickly. 
Consuelo  was  sure  the  air  of  the  mountains  would  restore  him  ; 
and  Aurora,  at  the  close  of  a  long  evening  spent  with  the  colo 
nel,  had  gained  his  promise  to  come  out  to  the  Phalanstery. 
He  was  a  young  man,  rich  and  alone  in  the  world;  and  his  lovely, 
gentle  wife  was  an  only  daughter.  Mrs.  Courtney  had  a  father 
and  mother,  who  loved  her  devotedly.  Indeed,  it  was  to  get  rid 
of  a  feeling  of  restraint  induced  by  their  forever  supervising  his 
family  affairs,  that  led  Colonel  Courtney  to  think  of  leaving 
Vanity  Fair,  on  a  foreign  tour.  Consuelo  and  Aurora,  unitedly 
acting  in  the  same  line  and  direction,  changed  his  plans  for  the 


804  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

summer,  at  least,  and  he  returned  with  them  in  the  month  of 
May  to  the  mountains. 

Mrs.  Courtney  was  the  only  mother  who  eagerly  ran  with 
passionate  love  to  her  child,  and  would  not  give  it  up  till  com 
pelled  to  do  so,  and  often  would  not  dine,  so  she  might  be  with 
her  bright  boy,  who  was  now  daily  growing  more  and  more 
healthy  and  beautiful. 

"  And  why  do  you  not  always  have  your  boy  with  you  ?  " 
asked  Gertrude,  of  this  dejected-looking  lady ;  a  young  wife  and 
mother,  not  yet  twenty  years  of  age. 

Mrs.  Courtney  made  her  no  reply,  seemed  not  to  hear  her  ; 
but,  holding  up  her  baby  in  the  air,  ran  sportively  to  the  far-off 
end  of  the  portico,  upon  which  they  were  standing,  leaving  the 
bonne  at  the  other  end. 

Gertrude  ran  after  her ;  and  Mrs.  Courtney,  holding  up  her 
boy,  said  to  her,  "  Are  you  ignorant  ?  Hush !  don't  reply  ! 
There  is  one  looking  intently  upon  us."  It  was  the  bonne;  and, 
while  Mrs.  Courtney  seemed  speaking  of  the  boy,  she  said  to 
Gertrude,  "  My  dear  lady,  if  I  come  to  your  room  at  nine 
o'clock,  shall  I  find  you  alone  ?  "  Gertrude  nodded  yes. 

And  the  mother  ran  again  with  her  boy  towards  the  nurse, 
who  came  forward  with  a  severe  expression  upon  her  face  as  she 
took  away  the  child,  saying,  "  Madam,  by  waiting  so  long,  I  lose 
my  dinner ; "  and  bore  the  boy  into  the  palace. 

At  nine  o'clock  Mrs.  Courtney  came  into  the  parlor  where 
our  pilgrims  were  assembled,  amusing  themselves  with  singing 
some  new  quartets,  just  received ;  for  it  was  among  their  ac 
complishments  to  read  music  with  the  same  ease  they  read  a 
newspaper.  Mrs.  Courtney  sat  listening  a  while  to  their  singing, 


MRS.  COURTNEY  AND  GERTRUDE.        305 

when  Gertrude,  excusing  herself  to  her  companions,  led  Mrs. 
Courtney  into  her  own  chamber. 

Mrs.  Courtney  began,  with  great  emotion, to  speak:  "I  have 
come,  Mrs.  Trueman,  to  ask  your  sympathy.  I  cannot  live  any 
longer  without  telling  my  griefs ;  and  your  face  tells  me  I  may 
confide  in  you.  You  asked  me  to-day  of  my  child.  0,  my  sad 
heart  has  but  one  unchanging  theme  !  My  husband,  my  loving 
and  loved  husband,  has  been  seduced  from  me  by  that  brilliant, 
bad  woman,  Aurora  de  Silva  !  She  has  entranced  him,  and  we 
are  here.  He  has  already  invested  his  fortune  in  this  Company 
of  Associationists ;  and  my  sole  treasure,  my  boy-baby,  the  only 
tie  which  binds  my  husband  to  me,  is  taken  from  me.  On  the 
life  of  my  boy  hangs  my  last  hope  of  his  love.  I  know  Ralph 
once  loved  me,  though  he  has  almost  deserted  me  now.  But 
there  is  some  love  left,  for  he  is  jealous  of  the  attentions  paid  me 
by  the  bad  men  by  whom  we  are  here  surrounded." 

"  Mrs.  Courtney,  I  pledge  you  my  sympathy,"  replied  Ger 
trude  ;  "  and  I  beg  you  will  tell  me  all  you  know  of  these  people. 
I  have  undefined  doubts  and  impressions  which  haunt  me,  and  I 
fear  to  have  them  confirmed ;  but  I  want  the  truth,  and  to  know 
all,  that  I  may  have  reasons  to  give  for  leaving  this  palace  at 
once." 

"  Ah !  would  I  could  go  home  to  my  parents  with  you,  and 
carry  my  child  with  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Courtney.  "  Do  you  ask 
what  is  the  character  of  the  inmates  of  this  house  ?  Walk  these 
passages  at  all  hours  of  midnight,  as  I  have  done,  in  going  to 
and  from  the  nursery,  to  see  my  sweet  boy,  and  you  will  need  no 
further  knowledge  of  what  is  enacted  here." 
26* 


306  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  And  does  not  your  baby  sleep  with  you  ?  "  asked  Gertrude, 
with  painful  surprise. 

"  Alas,  no  !  The  despotism  of  this  Phalanstery  forbids  it ; 
and  I  have  given  all  my  jewels  to  the  bonnins  for  the  indulgence 
I  have  had.  They  are  all  gone  now,  and  I  am  forced  to  give  up 
my  child  from  night  to  noon ;  but  my  heart  wakes  and  weeps. 
I  steal  along  these  halls  to  the  nursery,  and  sit  upon  the  steps, 
not  daring  to  go  in,  for  they  are  rude  to  me  now  my  money  and 
jewels  are  all  gone ;  and  it  is  the  last  mercy  of  my  life  to  see 
my  child  sleeping  in  his  little  crib."  And  then,  lowering  her 
voice,  and  placing  her  mouth  close  to  Gertrude's  ear,  she  whis 
pered,  "  0,  Mrs.  Trueman,  I  fear  for  his  life  !  " 

The  soul  of  this  poor  distracted  mother  was  in  this  low  whis 
per  ;  and  the  tone  and  look  froze  the  heart's  blood  of  Gertrude. 

"  Fear  for  the  safety  of  your  baby  ?  " 

"  Hush  !  not  so  loud.  Yes !  yes !  The  last  link  which  binds 
my  husband  to  me  is  not  yet  broken.  This  child  is  that  last 
link,  and  it  will  be  broken.  Aurora  de  Silva  affects  to  be  in 
love  with  Mr.  Outright.  She  retreats  from  my  husband's  atten 
tions  in  public,  though  she  never  declines  them  in  private  ;  and 
why  ?  Do  you  ask  why  ?  I  will  answer  ;  her  conquest  is  as 
yet  a  divided  heart.  She  is  imperious,  and  insists  on  all.  She 
would  have  me  go  home,  and  take  this  boy  with  me ;  but  he 
will  not  consent.  And  I  see  it  in  her  eye,  that  she  will  extin 
guish  my  life  and  the  life  of  my  child,  as  she  would  gnats  which 
annoy  her." 

"'  0,  no  !  no  !  Your  love  creates  terrors,  my  dear  lady.  Tell 
me,  do  you  pray  for  the  safety  of  your  child  ?  "  asked  Gertrude. 

"  Pray  in  a  Phalanstery !  "  exclaimed  the  mother.     "  Alas, 


FRANK  AND   ARMIDA.  307 

I  have  not  dared  to  pray  to  a  holy  God  from  such  a  place  as 
this ! " 

"  God  is  our  only  hope  !  "  replied  Gertrude.  "  Let  us  pray 
together,  and  pray  now." 

Mrs.  Courtney  was  confused,  but  knelt  beside  Gertrude,  whose 
low,  earnest  tones,  supplicating  the  mercy  and  protection  of  God, 
subdued  her  to  tears,  which  flowed  freely,  relieving  her  sur 
charged  soul  of  sorrow.  She  felt  there  was  yet  hope ;  for  God 
could  save ! 

"  God  bless  you !  "  whispered  Mrs.  Courtney,  as  she  kissed 
Gertrude,  and  retired  to  her  own  apartments.  Gertrude,  on  her 
return,  finding  herself  alone  in  her  parlor,  went  out  upon  the 
balcony,  and  sat  looking  up  into  heaven.  The  stars  shone  bright 
and  clear,  and  the  sweetness  and  serenity  of  night  came  down  to 
quiet  the  tumult  of  her  breast. 

While  Gertrude  was  so  occupied,  Frank  had  gone  with  Oliver 
and  Annie  to  the  music-saloon  and  listened  a  while.  Armida, 
seeing  him  alone,  tapped  his  shoulder,  and  beckoned  him  out. 
They  walked  upon  the  lawn,  meeting  many  couples  walking  and 
chatting  around  and  about  the  fountains  and  floral  temples  (for 
rarely  did  these  Associationists  form  themselves  into  groups  after 
night-fall),  until  they  reached  a  temple,  whose  door  was  open; 
the  well-known  indication  of  its  being  unoccupied.  To  this 
Armida  led  the  way ;  and,  entering,  closed  the  latticed  door. 
Vases  of  flowers  freshly  culled,  and  other  expressions  of  design, 
told  Frank  it  was  no  accident  that  this  temple  was  found  vacant 
by  them  on  this  evening. 

Armida  seated  herself  gracefully,  and  with  an  air  of  abandon 
very  attractive.  Frank  complimented  her  upon  her  picturesque 


308  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

appearance  in  a  calm,  quiet  tone,  which  at  once  roused  her  to  a 
great  height  of  passion.  It  told  Armida  that  her  arts  were  all 
'  seen  through,  and  contemned. 

"  Frank  Trucman  ! "  said  Armida,  rising  to  her  feet,  and  put 
ting  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  "  do  you  know  what  love  is  ?  " 

Frank,  calm  as  a  summer's  morning,  replied,  in  a  cheerful 
tone,  "  Yes  !  Gertrude  has  found  me  a  docile  pupil." 

"  And  does  Gertrude  fill  up  the  measure  of  all  you  can  see  in 
woman  to  love  ?  I  know  you  will^say  yes !  but  it  is  false.  You 
are  a  man,  and  must  be  subject  to  like  passions  for  change.  You 
must,  you  shall  love  me  !  It  is  not  rational  to  be  constant ;  it 
is  absurd,  it  is  false,  and  you  know  it  to  be  so.  Dare  you 
despise  me?  I  will  drive  this  dagger  into  your  heart!"  and 
Armida  drew  a  glittering  dagger  from  its  sheath  in  her  bosom, 
which  shone  in  her  hand,  while  .a  gleam  of  fury  flashed  out  of 
her  dark  eyes. 

Frank  caught  the  arm,  and  wrested  the  dagger  from  her  hand. 
"  Armida,  listen  to  me  !  Sit  down  here  beside  me,  and  listen  to 
all  I  have  to  say."  In  an  instant,  Armida,  weak  and  powerless 
as  an  infant,  lay  upon  his  breast  dissolved  in  tears.  "  I  am  de 
spised  !  yes,  I  know  it  —  I  know  it !  "  and  she  wept.  Frank  did 
nothing  to  attract  her  attention  to  himself.  She  sobbed  a  while, 
and  continued:  "0,  that  I  was  a  child  once  more  —  a  little 
child !  I  might  be  happy  —  happy  as  a  loved  wife.  But  I  have 
been  duped,  and  now  I  seek  to  dupe  you ;  and  you  see  it  all,  and 
despise  me.  0 !  is  it  so  ?  "  And  her  energies  were  once  more 
awakening,  when  Frank  quietly  replaced  her  head  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  said,  "Armida,  you  are  young,  beautiful,  and 
gifted ;  return  with  us.  I  have  the  means  to  replace  you  in  the 


ARMIDA   AND   FRANZ.  309 

circles  you  have  graced ;  and  go  with  us,  —  we  will  do  you  good. 
Gertrude  has  no  sister ;  be  a  sister  to  Gertrude,  and  find  a  brother 
in  me." 

Armida  lifted  her  head  and  gazed  into  Frank's  face  with  in 
tense  earnestness.  It  was  an  eagle's  glance,  and  it  satisfied  her 
whole  heart.  Again  she  became  nerveless,  and  laid  her  head 
upon  his  breast,  with  child-like  innocency,  and  wept.  Frank 
waited  for  her  movement.  Armida  rose  to  her  feet,  and  was 
herself  again.  "  Frank  Trueman,  I  thank  you  !  from  the  depths 
of  my  soul,  I  thank  you !  but  it  is  too  late.  There  is  no  return 
for  me.  I  must  follow  destiny.  And,  now,  I  will  repay  you  as 
best  I  may.  Listen  to  me  !  Hasten  away  from  this  place  ;  — 
but  how  are  you  to  go  ?  That,  time  and  chance  will  show,  and  I 
may  be  able  to  aid  you.  Keep  this  purpose  in  your  heart  of 
hearts.  Let  it  not  be  guessed  at.  Thus  do  I  repay  you  your 
strange  sympathy,  the  last  that  ever  will  be  mine.  Yes !  it  is 
destiny  —  my  destiny!  and  I  meet  it." 

So  saying,  she  rose  and  led  the  way  towards  the  palace,  wear 
ing  so  gay  an  air  that  her  friends  deemed  her  star  had  reached 
its  zenith. 


310  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

OF     "  LITTLE     COMMENCERS,"     BONNES,    AND    BABIES,    IN     THE     PHA 
LANSTERY. 

THE  next  day  our  ladies  accompanied  Mrs.  Courtney  to  the 
nursery.  It  contained  but  twenty  children  ranging  from  infancy 
to  two  years  of  age,  and  forty  children  from  two  to  five,  who,  in 
the  language  of  the  Phalanx,  were  called  "  Little  Commencers." 
The  little  children  were  in  a  nice,  lofty  room,  each  in  his  little 
crib,  or  in  the  arms  of  the  bonnes,  who  were  walking  with  them. 
Everything  was  neat  and  nice,  and  a  chief  bonne  sat  sewing  at  a 
table  covered  over  with  work,  which  she  was  preparing  for  other 
bonnes  to  make  up.  Little  Hartley  Courtney  was  sucking  his 
thumb  in  sweet  sleep  when  they  entered ;  and  the  bonnes,  all 
smiles  on  the  entrance  of  our  ladies,  permitted  them  to  take  him 
up,  and  give  him  into  the  arms  of  his  poor  mother.  This  they 
did  as  if  a  matter  of  merest  accident,  but  it  was  all  designed  and 
done  as  requested  by  Mrs.  Courtney,  who  did  not  venture  to  do 
so  herself.  Annie,  that  she  might  take  little  Hartley  along  with 
them,  which  Mrs.  C.  feared  to  do,  took  the  boy  out  of  his  moth 
er's  arms,  and  said,  "  Come,  let  us  see  the  other  children.  Will 
a  bonne  please  lead  the  way  ?  "  A  nurse,  indicated  by  the  supe 
rior  bonne,  led  the  way  through  a  dormitory  of  some  extent, 
nicely  kept,  containing  fifty  little  cot-bedsteads  and  beds,  into 
the  workshop  of  the  Little  Commencers.  There  were  about  forty 
boys  and  girls,  from  two  to  five  years  old,  sitting  around  a  table 
twenty  inches  high,  which  had  a  groove  around  the  edges,  per- 


LITTLE    COMMENCERS   AT   WORK.  311 

forated  with  little  holes  of  different  sizes,  down  which  the  little 
children  put  the  peas ;  classifying  the  peas,  —  putting  the  little 
peas  down  into  the  little  holes  and  the  big  peas  into  the  big 
ones. 

Inasmuch  as  the  season  of  green  peas  was  not  yet,  our  ladies 
were  astonished  to  see  so  many  peas  full  grown,  for  there  were 
baskets  full  in  the  pod  ready  to  be  opened.  They  picked  up  some 
of  these  unopened  pods,  and  discovered  that  they  were  not  peas 
at  all,  but  ingenious  contrivances  made  of  India-rubber,  resem 
bling  a  pod  precisely,  containing  little  wooden  balls,  the  size  of 
the  genuine  pea,  painted  green  as  verdigris  could  make  them. 
It  was  amusing  to  see  the  boys,  who  sat  on  the  upper  side  (for 
the  table  had  a  slight  inclination),  open  these  pods  and  roll  the 
peas  down  to  the  little  ones,  who  caught  them  and  put  them  into 
their  appropriate  holes.* 

Consuelo  came  in  while  Gertrude  and  Annie  were  laughing 
with  delight  at  the  way  these  little  operatives  were  working. 
She  was  much  gratified  with  the  pleasure  they  expressed. 

"  We  thus  avoid,"  said  Consuelo,  "  all  the  disagreeables  of 
infancy  and  childhood.  '  Here,  mothers  experience  none  of  tho 
torments  and  inquietudes  of  maternity.'!  *  Our  bonnes  are  selected 
from  women  in  whose  hearts  the  love  of  children  is  strongly 

*  In  all  books  yet  written,  there  is  nothing  spoken  of  but  shelling 
peas  for  "Little  Commencers. "  This  work-table  is  thus  described  by 
FOURIER,  in  his  chapter  "  On  the  Education  of  the  First  Order  of  Chil 
dren.  ' '  The  Germ  are  the  sucklings  and  weaned.  The  first  age,  being  the 
transition  state,  consists  of  two  orders,  the  "  Little  Commencers  and  the 
Initiated."  • — BRISBANE,  p.  408. 

t  Cantagrel,  p.  11. 


312  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

fixed,  and  who  passionately  acquit  themselves  of  the  task  for 
which  they  have  a  partiality.'  *  « It  is  here  only  that  bonnes  are 
found  who  give  themselves  up  to  their  passion  for  children,'!  and 
in  the  palace  we  have  only  '  impassioned  bonnes.^  «  They  are  all 
talented ;  and,  under  their  care,  the  senses  of  these  little  ones 
are  cultivated  and  refined,  by  hearing  the  sweetest  music. '§  *  It 
is  very  rare  to  hear  any  crying  in  this  department.  I  never  visit 
this  interesting  and  most  important  section  of  our  Phalanstery, 
but  I  feel  pity  for  poor  children  of  rich  parents  —  nursed  to 
death !  Poor  children !  they  are  falsified  from  their  mothers' 
breasts. '"II 

"  And  do  they  never  quarrel  ?  "  asked  Annie,  in  a  tone  of  de 
lighted  amazement. 

"  Never,"  replied  Consuelo ;  "  everything  here  is  made  attract 
ive  ;  the  passional  harmonies  have  no  notes  of  dissonance."  So 
saying,  Consuelo  took  leave,  and  passed  into  another  section  of 
the  palace.  She  was  hardly  out  of  hearing,  when  one  little  boy 
snatched  at  a  handful  of  rubber  peas  his  next  neighbor  had 
picked  up  out  of  the  basket  and  laid  on  the  table.  This  was 
resented  by  a  slap  in  the  face,  and  the  little  boy  made  a  grab  at 
the  boy's  hair ;  and  he,  on  his  part,  thumped  the  little  fellow 
with  his  fists,  and  the  blood  flowed  from  his  nose,  and  cries  of  terror 
at  the  sight  of  the  blood  rose  all  round  the  table.  The  bonnes, 
just  as  nurses  out  of  a  Phalanx  would  do,  took  up  the  pugnacious 
boys  and  trounced  them  on  the  instant,  and  then  sat  one  down  on 
a  bench,  roaring  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  —  and  a  very  fine  pair  of 
lungs  his  were,  —  while  another  bonne  came  with  a  basin  of  water 

*  Cantagrel,  p.  13.        t  p.  18.        t  p.  18.        §  p.  19.        II  p.  21. 


"IMPASSIONED    BONNES."  313 

and  a  sponge,  and  helped  to  stop  the  bleeding  nose.  This  was 
all  done  up  in  a  business-like  manner,  and  showed  that  such  out 
breaks  were  neither  unexpected  nor  unprovided  for. 

Order  being  restored,  the  work  of  shelling  peas  went  on  as 
before,  when  a  little  girl,  the  very  youngest  at  the  table,  hardly 
able  to  use  her  tiny  hands,  put  one  of  these  verdigris  balls  into 
her  mouth.  A  bonne,  seeing  this,  sprang  toward  the  child  ;  and 
our  ladies  screamed  with  terror  at  the  sight,  when  the  poor  little 
one,  frightened  at  seeing  the  bonne  run  to  her  with  a  face  full  of 
wrath,  swallowed  the  pea.  Instantly,  as  a  matter  of  routine,  this 
bonne  carried  her  to  a  cupboard  in  which  stood  a  bottle,  which 
she  shook  up,  and,  holding  the  child  in  her  lap,  and  compressing 
its  nose,  she  poured  the  contents  of  the  bottle  into  its  throat.  It 
was  a  mixture  of  sweet  oil  and  hiera  picra*  The  child  gasped 
and  gasped,  and  our  ladies  and  Mrs.  Courtney  were  in  agonies 
of  terror,  while  the  bonne,  calm  and  serene,  laid  the  child  down 
upon  the  floor,  to  roll  and  gasp,  saying,  "  Don't  meddle  with  the 
child!  keep  your  hands  off!  She  won't  swallow  another  pea  in  a 
hurry.  They  all  swallow  one  —  and  but  one " 

"  Heavens !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Courtney,  "  is  this  the  way  my 
child  is  to  be  treated  ?  "  and,  taking  her  own  baby  from  Annie's 
arms,  she  ran  out  of  the  room.  Our  ladies  followed  her  to  her 
chamber,  and  found  her  in  a  severe  fit  of  hysterics.  Hardly  had 

*  We  are  indebted  to  Galen  for  this  hot  compound,  of  which  he  says 
(Salmon,  p.  666),  "  It  is  a  good  thing  to  loosen  the  body  and  evacuate 
choler."  This  medicine  was  greatly  in  request  some  fifty  years  since,  but, 
with  many  other  "  sov'reigu'st  things,"  has  fallen  into  disrepute  and 
disuse. 

27 


314  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

they  reached  the  room  before  the  nurse  came  for  the  baby -boy, 
to  the  great  grief  of  the  mother.  For  hours  they  sought  to  soothe 
her,  but  for  hours  her  grief  and  terror  seemed  uncontrollable. 
Annie  hit  upon  the  best  plan  when  she  promised  to  tell  Col. 
Courtney  of  all  she  had  witnessed,  and  get  him  to  interpose  for 
the  restoration  of  her  child  to  her  arms. 

"  Do  !  do !  dearest  Mrs.  Outright,  plead  with  him ;  go  upon 
your  knees  to  him !  He  won't  refuse  you ;  God  make  you  elo 
quent  !  " 

Annie  and  Gertrude  both  assured  her  of  their  confident  belief 
in  the  success  of  the  appeal,  and  this  new  hope  acted  like  a 
charm  upon  the  poor  suffering  lady.  Gertrude  remained  with 
her,  while  Annie,  with  a  warmth  of  zeal  which  heightened  her 
beauty,  left  the  room,  going  from  parlor  to  parlor,  and  from  hall 
to  hall,  seeking  for  Col.  Courtney.  She  passed  a  group  of  girls 
and  gentlemen  upon  the  lawn,  without  a'  single  look  of  recogni 
tion  of  Oliver,  who  was  standing  with  them.  The  young  girls 
shouted  after  her,  and  she  turned  back,  when  Oliver  addressed 
his  wife —  "  Here  I  am,  Annie  !  "  "I  was  looking  for  Colonel 
Courtney,"  replied  Annie,  and  turned,  wending  her  way  with 
the  air  of  one  completely  preoccupied.  Oliver  stood  amazed ; 
and  his  surprise  became  a  matter  of  mirth  to  the  company. 
Anxious  to  know  what  was  the  matter,  he  left  them  to  form  their 
own  conclusions,  seeking  for  Annie,  and  found  her  returning. 
Oliver  asked  what  was  the  matter.  She  briefly  told  him  why 
she  wanted  to  see  Colonel  Courtney ;  and,  as  she  was  now  weary 
and  exhausted,  proposed  remaining  in  a  summer-house  near  by 
while  he  found  the  colonel  and  brought  him  to  her.  It  was  well 
she  did  so,  for  the  time  which  elapsed  before  Oliver  and  the 


AURORA   AND    COLONEL    COURTNEY.  315 

colonel  came  enabled  her  to  collect  herself,  and  to  consider  how 
best  to  tell  the  tale  of  all  she  had  witnessed.  Oliver  found  the 
colonel  and  Aurora  sitting  together  in  one  of  the  arbors  in  the 
garden.  When  Oliver  told  him  Annie  wished  to  see  him,  they 
followed  him  to  the  temple  in  which  his  wife  was  waiting 
for  them;  and,  knowing  that  Annie  would  be  glad  to  see 
Colonel  Courtney  alone,  Oliver  asked  Aurora  to  accompany  him 
in  a  walk.  It  was  now  near  sunset,  under  a  beautiful  sky,  and 
the  invitation  was  accepted  at  once,  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction. 
Aurora,  with  great  tact  and  playfulness,  teased  Oliver  about  the 
secret  between  his  wife  and  the  colonel ;  and,  as  he  knew  nothing 
of  what  had  been  revealed  by  Mrs.  Courtney  to  Gertrude,  nor 
had  he  any  inkling  that  there  was  any  reason  why  this  lady 
should  not  know,  he  told  her  all  he  knew  of  the  matter. 

The  interview  of  Annie  was  entirely  satisfactory.  Colonel  C. 
said  he  would  have  the  child  restored  to  his  wife,  or,  if  the  rules 
of  the  Phalanstery  were  imperative,  he  would  send  them  back  to 
her  father's  house.  He  said,  "  The  count  is  now  riding  out;  his 
order  to  the  bonnes  shall  be  obtained  on  his  return.  Hartley 
shall  be  restored  to-night  perhaps,  to-morrow  beyond  all  doubt." 
He  requested  Annie  to  express  his  sympathy  to  his  wife ;  to  say 
to  her  he  would  see  her  himself  so  soon  as  he  could  bring  her 
the  order  which  would  replace  their  boy  in  her  arms.  He  swore 
vehemently  that  such  cruelty  was  a  disgrace  to  humanity  and  the 
Phalanx.  And,  though  Annie  did  n't  approve  of  swearing,  she 
never  heard  oaths  which  sounded  so  very  like  pathos  and  elo 
quence,  and  it  really  did  her  heart  good  to  hear  them. 

Aurora  entered  with  Oliver,  and  broke  up  the  interview. 
Aurora  was  too  astute  to  require  any  explanations.  Annie's 


816  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

looks  and  the  colonel's  manner  showed  the  success  of  Annie's 
appeal  on  behalf  of  the  young  boy  and  his  mother. 

Oliver  and  Annie  now  hastened  to  Mrs.  Courtney's  room, 
and  told  her,  as  she  sat  in  the  arms  of  Gertrude,  of  the 
result  of  Annie's  interview.  The  joy  was  too  great  for  tears. 
Such  a  flood  of  blessing  overpowered  her  to  agony,  and  not 
a  tear  could  she  shed.  Gertrude  ran  and  brought  her  boy 
from  the  nursery;  and,  as  Mrs.  Courtney  clasped  him  to  her 
heart,  the  deluge  came,  and  all  fears,  for  the  present,  passed 
away. 

Oliver  found  Frank  in  his  parlor,  wondering  what  had  become 
of  Gertrude.  Annie  told  Frank  of  the  bonnes  and  babies,  which 
raised  new  expressions  of  horror  and  disgust  at  this  grandest  of 
all  modern  monstrosities. 


CHAPTER    LX. 

THE   MURDER   OF    MRS.    COURTNEY'S    CHILD. 

IT  was  a  little  past  midnight  when  Gertrude  was  wakened  by 
a  tap  at  her  door ;  it  was  soft,  but  quick,  and  often  repeated. 
Supposing  it  must  be  Theresa,  she  slipped  on  herroie  de  chamlre 
and  opened  the  door,  when  in  rushed  Mrs.  Courtney.  "  He 's 
gone  —  he 's  gone  !  gone  —  gone  —  gone  !  "  she  cried. 

"  Who  's  gone  ?  "  asked  Frank,  rousing  himself. 


LITTLE   HARTLEY   GONE!  317 

"  My  baby  !  my  boy  !  I  knew  it  would  be  so  when  they  tore 
him  from  my  arms  this  night.  Yes,  he  's  gone  !  " 

Gertrude  led  Mrs.  Courtney  into  the  parlor,  and  Frank 
roused  Oliver  and  Annie ;  and  in  the .  shortest  space  possible 
they  were  all  dressed,  ready  to  accompany  Mrs.  Courtney. 

Oliver  was  hopeful.  He  said  :  "  Perhaps  the  colonel  had 
taken  it,  and  the  first  thing  was  to  find  him.  Now,  then,  where 
was  he  to  be  found  ?  " 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Courtney  ;  and  she  led  Frank  and 
Oliver,  their  wives  hurrying  after,  afraid  to  be  left  behind,  till 
they  came  to  the  passage  leading  to  the  nursery.  "  Here,"  she 
said  to  the  ladies,  "  we  will  stay ;  in  the  last  room  in  this 
passage,  on  the  right,  you,  gentlemen,  will  find  my  husband." 

Oliver  and  Frank  went  to  the  door  and  knocked.  It  opened, 
and  Aurora  de  Silva  appeared,  dressed  in  a  robe. 

Oliver,  in  a  loud  tone,  spoke  :  "  Say  to  Colonel  Courtney  I 
have  tidings  to  tell  him  :  let  him  hasten  !  " 

Aurora  shut  the  door,  and  locked  it.  They  heard  the  colonel 
contending  with  her ;  she  entreating  him  not  to  appear,  and  he 
evidently  struggling  to  get  free,  while  her  tones  became  more  and 
more  violent.  Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  he  leaped  forth. 

"  What  means  this  ?  "  cried  the  colonel. 

Frank,  calm  and  fearless,  said :  "  Your  boy  is  gone  !  " 

For  an  instant  the  colonel  seemed  like  one  bewildered,  but, 
running,  he  cried,  "  To  the  nursery  !  to  the  nursery  !  "  At  the 
head  of  the  passage  stood  his  wife  and  our  ladies.  "Dear 
Emily,  don't  be  alarmed ;  they  shall  produce  my  boy !  "  But  his 
tones  told  his  terror. 

What  we  have  described  was  not  done  without  noise.  They 
27* 


318  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

ran  into  the  nursery ;  all  was  silent  there.  They  hurried  on  to 
the  sleeping  apartment  of  the  children,  and  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Courtney  rushed  to  their  child's  crib.  Putting  his  hands  inside 
of  the  clothes,  the  colonel  exclaimed,  "  See  !  his  bed  is  warm ; 
the  little  fellow  has  been  just  taken  out !  " 

It  was  so  ;  they  all  felt  inside  of  the  bed-clothes.  Col.  Court 
ney  became  wild;  and,  as  he  reached  the  passage,  his  cries 
alarmed  the  sleepers  in  that  part  of  the  building,  resulting  in 
developments  in  the  wing  which  they  traversed,  inhabited  by 
vestals  and  demoiselles,  equally  unexpected  and  surprising. 

Not  a  bonne  belonging  to  the  infant's  ward  could  be  found. 
Courtney  and  Frank  ran  in  various  directions  to  rouse  up  the 
members  of  the  Areopagi.  The  cry  of  fire,  fire,  had  gone 
through  the  palace;  and  in  all  entries  and  halls  the  same 
recklessness  of  appearances  and  anxiety  for  personal  safety  were 
exhibited. 

Col.  Courtney  thus  exhausted  his  physical  energies.  His  poor 
wife  had  been  carried  by  Oliver  to  Annie's  room,  fainting, 
attended  by  the  wives.  Colonel  Courtney,  meeting  Frank  on  his 
way  to  his  apartment,  came  to  a  pause.  He  at  once  guessed  this 
whole  matter.  "  Mr.  Trueman,  follow  me  to  my  room." 

Entering  his  wife's  chamber,  he  unlocked  a  wardrobe  and  pro 
duced  two  pairs  of  pistols ;  having  examined,  them,  he  put  on 
fresh  caps.  One  pair  he  put  into  his  own  pockets,  and  gave  the 
other  to  Frank,  saying,  "  These  are  loaded ;  will  you  stand  by 
me?" 

"  I  will,  to  the  death  !  "  said  Frank. 

They  went  first  to  the  count's  parlor  and  knocked  fiercely. 
Consuelo,  who  had  been  roused  by  the  cry  of  fire,  and  had  par- 


SCENE   IN   CONSUELO'S   ROOM.  319 

tklly  dressed  herself,  opened  the  door,  and  the  count  came  into 
his  private  parlor,  also  partially  dressed,  wrapped  in  his  robe. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?  "  asked  the  count. 

Col.  Courtney,  in  a  tone  of  intense  but  restrained  feeling,  said : 
"  Count,  my  child  is  missing ;  let  him  be  produced  here,  and  at 
once !  " 

"  Certainly  !  "  said  the  count,  proudly,  and  in  a  tone  of  anger. 
He  rang  his  boll.  "  Excuse  me  one  moment,"  and  he  soon 
returned,  perfectly  dressed. 

The  bell  was  replied  to  by  the  coming  in  of  one  of  the  Are- 
opagi  and  two  of  the  guards.  The  count  said  :  "  Bring  me  the 
bonnes —  all  of  them,  instantly  !  And  tell  them  to  bring  with 
them  the  boy  of  Colonel  Courtney.  —  Go  !  I  wait  for  them." 

It  was  a  brief  period ;  but  it  seemed  long  even  to  Frank,  and 
to  Colonel  Courtney  all  but  unbearable,  when  one  of  the  bonnes 
came. 

"  Tell  mo,"  said  the  count,  "  where  is  Colonel  Courtney's 
boy  ?  " 

The  bonne  replied :  "  My  watch  ended  at  twelve ;  the  chil 
dren  were  all  sleeping  then.  I  was  relieved  by  Matilde 
Sancy." 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  asked  the  count. 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  know.  She  and  the  baby  are  both  missing," 
replied  the  bonne. 

"  Mark  me,"  said  the  count,  "  and  tell  every  bmme  I  will 
punish  them  with  death  if  that  child  be  not  produced  forth 
with.  Go  !  rouse  the  bonnes  and  the  guard,  and  bring  the 
child  here." 

The  bonne  left  the  room  to  obey  the  mandates  of    the   count. 


320  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Gonsuelo  asked  Colonel  Courtney  if  he  knew  where  Aurora  de 
Silva  was. 

The  colonel  rose  to  his  feet,  as  if  he  had  at  that  instant  seized 
the  clue  to  unravel  the  mystery.  Without  a  single  word  of  reply 
to  the  inquiry  of  Consuelo,  he  left  the  room,  followed  by  Frank, 
who  ran  at  the  top  of  his  speed  to  overtake  the  colonel.  The 
room  of  Aurora  they  found  wide  open  ;  but  she  was  gone.  Her 
bureau-drawers  stood  open,  and  rich  dresses  lay  about  the  room. 
A  casket  containing  her  jewels  was  also  missing. 

A  search  was  ordered  to  be  made  by  the  count ;  but,  whether 
made  or  not,  it  resulted  in  no  discovery  of  Aurora  or  Matilde. 

About  mid-day  the  body  of  the  little  boy  was  found  covered 
up  in  a  heap  of  compost.  It  was  washed  and  brought  into  the 
colonel's  apartment ;  and  when  it  was  dressed  and  laid  upon  the 
bed,  he  was  told  of  its  discovery. 

The  colonel  asked  Oliver  to  come  with  him  and  see  the  body 
of  his  boy.  There  lay  the  child,  as  if  still  sleeping ;  nor  could 
Oliver  discover  in  what  way  the  death  had  been  accomplished. 
The  colonel  asked  Oliver  if  it  was  possible  to  discover  in  what 
way  his  child  came  to  his  death. 

Oliver  said,  "  It  might  be,  by  an  examination  in  Vanity  Fair; 
but  he  could  not  attempt  it." 

The  colonel,  who  seemed  to  have  a  strange  morbid  feeling  as 
to  this  question,  said,  "  I  will  take  the  body  of  my  boy  to 
Vanity  Fair." 

Oliver  undertook  to  make  all  the  arrangements  necessary. 

"  I  will  leave  my  wife  here.  Poor  girl !  I  will  not  kill  her  by 
taking  her  with  me.  I  confide  her  to  your  care,  Outright,  to 
bring  with  you.  May  I  do  so  ?  " 


THE  CASHIER  AND  THE  COLONEL.       321 

Oliver  gave  him  every  assurance,  and  said,  "  I  will  have 
everything  ready  for  you  two  hours  hence." 

The  colonel  went  to  Frank's  room,  and  asked  him  to  follow 
him.  "  I  leave  as  soon  as  the  carriage  I  have  ordered  can  be 
got  ready  and  brought  to  the  door.  I  will  carry  my  poor  dead 
boy  to  Vanity  Fair,  if,  perhaps,  I  can  discover  in  what  way  he 
was  killed ;  for  I  will  repay  the  deed  that  has  been  done  four 
fold.  Now,  I  want  you  to  stand  by  me.  I  am  going  to  the 
office  of  the  cashier,  who  holds  certificates  of  stock  transferred  by 
me,  to  take  effect  from  and  after  the  first  of  January  next,  till 
which  time  they  are  mine.  These  certificates  I  must  recover. 
It  is  the  first  blow  I  can  inflict  upon  this  pandemonium." 

They  walked  together  into  the  office  of  the  cashier,  passing 
through  rooms  occupied  by  clerks,  until  they  reached  the  inner 
sanctum  leading  to  the  vault  and  treasury.  Here  sat  the  cashier, 
who  rose  with  great  politeness,  and  asked  the  colonel  and  Frank 
to  be  seated. 

"  I  called  to  show  Mr.  Trueman  the  stocks  you  hold  of  mine, 
that  he  may  see  them  and  the  transfer." 

The  cashier,  supposing  the  colonel  was  acting  as  a  stool-pigeon 
for  and  on  behalf  of  the  Phalanstery,  went  into  the  vault  with 
his  key  and  produced  a  packet,  which  he  handed  the  colonel, 
who  opened  it  and  counted  the  certificates,  one  of  which  he 
handed  Frank  to  examine.  The  number  was  correct.  They 
were  all  there  ;  and  he  put  the  certificate  back  into  the  envelope, 
the  cashier  standing  with  his  iron  door  open,  expecting  to  have  it 
handed  to  him ;  but  the  colonel  put  it  into  his  breast-pocket,  and 
pulled  out  his  pistol. 

"  Pray,  sir,  what  does  this  mean  ?  "  asked  the  cashier. 


822  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

The  colonel  said  :  "  This,  sir,  is  the  beginning  of  desolations  ! 
I  am  glad  you  have  saved  me  the  trouble  of  blowing  your  brains 
out  in  recovering  these  bonds.  I  had  come  prepared  to  do  so,  as 
you  see,  if  necessary  !  "  So  saying,  they  left  the  room,  leaving 
the  cashier  sitting  in  his  chair  in  speechless  amazement. 

Aided  by  Oliver  and  Frank,  all  was  ready  for  his  departure. 
The  count  and  Consuelo,  humbled  by  recent  events,  sent  for  them 
all  to  come  into  the  count's  parlor.  The  wrath  of  the  colonel 
was  deprecated,  the  friendship  and  influence  of  Frank  and  Oliver 
most  earnestly  requested.  The  innocence  of  the  count  and  Con 
suelo  Was  beyond  all  question,  and  the  injustice  of  inflicting  a 
calamity  upon  the  guiltless  was  strongly  pressed.  Consuelo  never 
was  so  splendid  before ;  and  Colonel  Courtney  promised  to  make 
no  disclosures  not  necessary  to  secure  the  punishment  of  the  guilty. 

This  being  done,  one  last  sad  duty  remained :  it  was  to  take 
leave  of  his  wife.  Happily,  she  lay  unconscious;  and,  as  he 
kissed  her  pale  forehead,  his  heart  found  utterance  in  a  passion 
of  tears.  As  he  rose  to  go,  he  said  to  Annie :  "  Comfort  my  poor 
wife  as  best  you  may.  Tell  her  I  am  penitent.  Alas  !  "  he  cried, 
in  agony,  "  was  there  no  way  of  waking  me  out  of  this  trance 
but  by  the  murder  of  my  boy  ?  "  He  added  :  "  Say  to  Emily  I 
am  awake  to  my  own  misery  and  to  her  wrongs."  These  words 
were  repeated  to  the  wife  at  a  proper  time.  Sad  as  they  were, 
they  yet  bore  a  precious  balm  to  her  bereaved  spirit.  At  three 
o'clock  the  colonel,  alone  with  the  corpse  of  his  child,  set  out  on 
his  way  home  to  Vanity  Fair. 


SCENES  IN   THE   PALACE.  323 

CHAPTER    LXI. 

CONSUELO'S  JEALOUSY  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 

MRS.  COURTNEY  was  placed  in  the  room  between  the  apartments 
of  Oliver  and  Frank  and  their  wives,  where  they  all  devoted 
themselves  to  her.  Time,  the  balm  for  wounded  hearts,  aided  by 
the  sympathy  and  tender  attentions  of  our  pilgrims,  gradually 
restored  Mrs.  Courtney  to  herself.  For  a  long  time  she  was  very 
feeble,  exceedingly  nervous ;  and  all  the  science  of  Oliver  and 
the  nursing  of  the  ladies,  at  times,  were  tasked  to  keep  her  alive. 

A  fortnight  had  elapsed  since  the  murder.  All  this  while  the 
inmates  of  the  Phalanstery  met  our  pilgrims  with  reserve ;  all 
faces  wore  a  darkened  aspect  towards  our  friends.  The  Areopagi, 
even,  were  not  at  ease  in  their  presence.  This  was  caused,  not 
only  by  the  horrible  murder  committed,  but  by  uneasy  apprehen 
sions  in  the  minds  of  many,  consequent  on  the  misadventures  of 
that  night.  Of  the  true  cause  of  estrangement  at  the  time  our 
gentlemen  and  wives  had  been  too  much  absorbed  to  take  cogni 
zance  ;  but  the  maxim,  "  A  guilty  conscience  needs  no  accuser," 
had  not  become  entirely  inappropriate  to  the  Phalanstery, — 
doubtless  a  necessary  result,  they  would  say,  of  a  false  religious 
education. 

Armida  alone  remained  gay,  and  delighted  to  meet  Frank  and 
his  friends.  Frank  asked  her  to  account  for  this  sad  event. 
Armida  was  of  opinion  that  Aurora  found  herself  in  a  false 
position.  She  had  given  all  for  love,  and  all  love  was  not  hers 
in  exchange.  She  was  not  supreme.  Indeed,  Armida  herself 


324  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

had  heard  her  say  to  Colonel  Courtney  on  the  portico,  as  they 
were  walking,  in  a  passionate  tone,  and  with  a  gesture  full  of  fire, 
"  Love  and  empire  will  no  partners  bear !  "  In  reply  to  the 
inquiry  why  Aurora  seemed  so  much  interested  in  Oliver, 
Armida  replied,  "Aurora  had  mixed  motives,  very  likely;  and, 
by  her  refusing  to  receive  Colonel  Courtney's  attentions,  and 
seeking  the  society  of  Mr.  Outright,  she  hoped  to  strengthen,  and 
did,  no  doubt,  greatly  increase,  her  hold  of  Courtney.  0,  my 
friend,  Frank  !  you  know  too  much  of  us  women  to  need  my  tell 
ing  you  that,  when  we  have  the  consciousness  of  power,  we  love 
to  use  it,  and  become  exacting  as  our  power  increases,  and  as  it 
is  resisted.  Nor  do  we  women  need  any  devil  to  aid  us  in 
reaching  our  ends." 

"  I  am  fearful,"  said  Frank,  "  this  is  a  most  miserable  apology 
for  paradise.  Don't  you  think  so,  Armida?  " 

"  Frank,  when  do  you  return?  "  inquired  Armida,  declining  to 
keep  up  the  ball  of  conversation  any  longer.  "  I  am  anxious  for 
you  to  leave.  I  wish  you  well,  and  want  you  to  be  gone  !  " 

"  We  shall  leave,  Armida,  when  the  health  of  Mrs.  Courtney 
admits  of  our  travelling.  We  cannot  leave  her,  and  she  recovers 
slowly.  But  why,  Armida,  are  you  so  very  anxious  I  should  go  ?  " 

Armida  stopped,  turned  round,  and,  looking  Frank  in  the  face 
with  passionate  earnestness,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  sad 
ness  took  the  place  of  pride  as,  in  low  tones,  she  said,  "  I  fear  a 
relapse ! "  So  saying,  she  ran  into  the  music-hall,  where  new- 
dances  were  being  taught.  Frank  followed  her  into  the  saloon, 
and  saw  her  on  the  floor  dancing  with  the  lightness  and  grace  of 
a  fawn.  "  Poor  Armida  !  "  sighed  Frank,  who,  unconsciously  to 
himself,  was  deeply  interested  in  the  future  of  this  beautiful  girl, 


THE  RAGE   OF   CONSUELO.  325 

of  whose  former  history  he  could  gain  nothing  from  herself,  and 
of  which  no  one  knew  anything,  or,  if  they  knew,  would  tell. 

One  morning,  after  the  hour  of  labor  had  begun,  when  the 
palace  was  almost  solitary,  being  relinquished  to  the  servants 
who  during  these  hours  discharged  the  duties  of  cleaning  and 
arranging  the  rooms,  Oliver  was  walking  up  and  down  the  hall 
before  his  suite  of  apartments,  "  whistling  as  he  went,"  as  the 
wisest  of  men  sometimes  do,  if  not  "  for  want  of  thought,"  for 
want  of  occupation,  when  a  servant-woman  hurried  past,  and 
entered  Consuelo's  room.  Instantly  Consuelo  appeared,  with  a 
drawn  dagger.  She  flew  past,  her  face  lit  up  with  anger.  Oliver 
followed  her  along  the  hall,  up  the  grand  staircase,  to  the  story 
above,  and  along  the  hall  into  one  of  the  wings,  where  he  saw  her 
enter  the  furthest  room.  He  heard  a  shriek,  and  a  young  girl 
came  running  out  into  the  passage  with  the  blood  streaming  from 
her  bosom.  She  ran  past  Oliver,  crying,  "  I  'm  killed  !  —  I  'm 
killed !  "  And,  as  Oliver  stood  amazed,  the  count  came  fleeing 
along  the  passage,  pursued  by  Consuelo,  with  her  dagger  red  with 
blood.  It  was  a  strange  sight. 

The  girl  ran  down  the  grand  staircase,  where,  in  a  swoon,  she 
fell  upon  the  floor,  as  Frank  and  Gertrude  were  coming  up.  Frank 
ran,  and,  taking  her  up,  bore  her  into  their  room.  Placing  her 
upon  a  sofa,  he  left  her  with  Gertrude,  and  came  out,  calling  for 
Oliver.  Consuelo,  all  on  fire  with  rage,  now  rushed  past  into  her 
room,  closing  the  door  with  violence.  Oliver,  hearing  Frank 
calling  for  him,  as  he,  too,  was  pursuing  after  Consuelo,  at  once 
answered  to  his  name.  Shortly  the  saloons  and  passages  became 
thronged  with  inquirers,  and  no  one  could  tell  what  new  and 
astonishing  event  had  happened ;  for  all  but  the  servants  had 
28 


326  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

been  occupied  in  their  several  ateliers  and  studios.  The  count  had 
left  the  palace,  attended  by  a  single  servant,  on  horseback,  after 
the  briefest  interview  with  the  Arcopagi  in  the  cashier's  room. 

While  all  these  events  were  transpiring,  Oliver,  with  his  coat 
off,  aided  by  his  wife,  was  occupied  in  stanching  the  blood  flow 
ing  from  the  breast  of  this  beautiful  girl,  who  lay  swooning  upon 
a  lounge  in  their  private  parlor.  With  a  zest  he  could  not  have 
believed  he  possessed,  almost  amounting  to  pleasure,  he  was 
enabled,  in  the  presence  of  his  wife,  to  show  off  his  professional 
skill.  His  travelling  pocket-book  of  instruments  was  supplied 
with  a  probe,  a  needle,  and  sewing-silk ;  but,  though  a  great 
parade  was  made  of  these,  there  was  no  occasion  for  them.  No 
one  knew  this  better  than  Oliver,  only  it  created  a  shuddering 
sensation  in  the  ladies  to  see  them  all  spread  out  ready  for  use. 
It  was  nothing  but  a  flesh-wound,  and,  happily,  not  very  deep ; 
and,  when  the  lips  of  the  wound  were  closed,  some  lint,  kept  in 
place  by  a  piece  of  sticking-plaster,  was  put  upon  it ;  and  Sir 
Charles  Bell  could  have  done  nothing  more,  had  he  been  aided 
by  the  celebrated  Mr.  Brodie. 

The  vestal,  as  she  came  to  her  senses,  found  herself,  divested  of 
all  her  bloody  clothing,  lying  upon  a  nice  couch,  dressed  very 
becomingly,  and  two  ladies  only  in  the  room  with  her,  —  Frank 
and  Oliver's  services  having  been  dispensed  with  when  that 
remarkable  operation  of  putting  on  the  cataplasm  had  been 
accomplished. 

On  going  down,  these  gentlemen  found  the  bee-hive  in  com 
motion.  Happily,  the  queen-bee  remained ;  and  so  the  hive 
soon  recovered  from  the  surprise,  and  matters  went  on  as  before. 
It  was  an  event  to  be  thought  of,  but  never  to  be  mentioned. 


STORY   OF  ADELAIDE   STEWART.  327 

As  the  Arcopagi  were  in  nightly  council  with  Consuelo,  the  con 
certs  and  dancing  were  not  graced  with  their  presence :  this  was  all. 
The  story  of  Miss  Adelaide  Stewart,  as  told  by  herself  to  our 
ladies,  was  briefly  this :  She  had  been  inveigled  by  the  count 
and  Consuelo,  during  their  brief  visit  in  May,  to  unite  herself 
with  the  Phalanx.  Her  fancy  had  been  addressed ;  and,  as  she 
would  soon  be  of  age,  every  attention  was  paid  her,  during  their 
stay,  to  induce  her  to  come  with  them.  Her  guardian  had  refused 
his  consent ;  but,  like  a  girl,  as  she  was,  whose  parents  were  dead, 
and  whose  fortune  was  within  a  few  months  to  be  in  her  own 
control,  she  had  mysteriously  disappeared,  and,  with  the  conniv 
ance  of  the  count,  was  brought  out  to  the  Phalanstery.  After 
her  coming,  every  inducement  was  offered  to  allure  her  to  enter 
the  Phalanx;  and  she  had  at  last  assumed  the  costume  of  the 
Vestals,  but  rather  because  it  was  becoming  than  for  any  other 
reason.  And,  then,  the  name  was  pretty.  All  this  while  the 
count  had  been  particularly  attentive  to  her ;  yet  such  was  her 
veneration  for  his  character  that  she  never  dreamed  of  any  pur 
pose  unworthy  her  high  idea  of  his  exalted  worth.  Nor  had  he 
inspired  her  with  any  thought  of  his  having  any  other  purpose 
than  to  make  her  stay  pleasant,  so  that,  if  she  so  pleased,  she 
could  become  a  capitalist.  On  the  morning  in  question,  the 
count,  by  appointment  playfully  made  with  her  the  evening 
before,  came  to  her  room  to  teach  her  the  science  of  chiromancy, 
which  he  had  been  telling  her  was  a  true  science ;  and  at  the 
instant  Consuelo  entered  he  was  holding  her  hand  and  telling 
her  fortune.  "11  tr adit or !"  cried  Consuelo,  and  ran  in  upon 
them,  striking  at  her  with  the  dagger.  The  count  caught  her 
hand,  holding  the  dagger  and  Consuelo  while  she  fled. 


328  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

The  poor  girl  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  returning  to  her 
own  apartment.  She  was  afraid  of  Consuelo,  nor  would  she 
admit  a  single  visitor.  It  was  deemed  safest  to  have  her  trunks 
brought  into  their  apartments,  and  Adelaide  had  a  pallet  made 
up  for  her  in  Mrs.  Courtney's  room.  Her  recovery  was  rapid ; 
yet  she  could  not  be. persuaded  to  leave  her  room  unless  in  com 
pany  with  some  one  of  Mr.  Trueman's  party,  as  it  was  called 
here.  Though  there  was  every  effort  made  by  the  nicest  young 
men  to  enlist  her  to  join  their  parties  and  sociables,  all  was  in 
vain.  She  was  so  terrified  by  the  murder  of  Mrs.  Courtney's 
child,  and  the  attempt  on  her  life  by  Consuelo,  that  all  she 
thought  of  now  was  to  return  to  her  guardian,  and  old  uncle,  in 
Vanity  Fair. 

The  recovery  of  Mrs.  Courtney  was  now  such  as  to  induce  our 
friends  to  talk  of  a  return  as  an  event  near  at  hand.  But  how 
was  it  to  be  effected  ?  There  were  no  stage-lines  to  the  palace. 
The  mountain  barrier  was  never  passed  but  by  those  who  came 
to  the  Phalanstery ;  and  only  those  came  who,  like  themselves, 
came  by  invitation  —  and  these  were  very  few.  One  day,  a  car 
riage  came,  and  Oliver  asked  the  driver  if  he  would  take  a  load 
of  passengers  returning  to  Vanity  Fair.  The  driver  asked  him 
if  he  and  his  party  had  a  permit.  When  asked  to  explain  what 
he  meant,  the  man  replied,  "  You  must  have  a  permit,  sir,  from 
the  count.  I  do  not  dare  take  you  without  his  consent." 

"  We  are  not  ready,"  said  Oliver,  "  and  shall  wait  for  the 
count's  return.  Indeed,  we  have  a  lady  too  sick  to  be  moved 
for  the  present."  And  so  ended  the  talk. 

Frank  was  surprised  when  Oliver  told  him  of  this  conversa 
tion  ;  but  replied,  "  When  we  get  ready  we  shall  leave  this 


ANZOLETO    SERENADES   COXSUELO.  329 

place.  Of  that  I  have  no  doubt.  In  the  mean  time,  make  no 
inquiries ;  show  no  inquietude ;  but  let  us  make  the  best  use  we 
can  of  all  that  is  passing." 

Ten  days  had  elapsed  since  the  departure  of  the  count,  and 
Consuelo,  all  this  while,  never  left  her  rooms.  The  various 
orders  saw  her  only  on  business;  and  a  most  uncomfortable 
condition  of  affairs  pervaded  the  happy  valley,  as  it  was  some 
times  called.  Our  pilgrims  were  regarded  with  suspicion, — 
Vestals  even  shunned  Oliver  and  Frank  ;  arid  the  Areopagi  and 
the  Pivotates  were  decorously  cold  and  distant. 

On  a  warm  and  starlit  night,  Gertrude  and  Annie,  who  had 
been  nursing  Mrs.  Courtney  till  it  was  near  midnight,  went  out  of 
the  hall-window  upon  the  balcony  at  the  end  of  the  east  front. 
There  they  sat  down  to  breathe  the  soft  air  of  midnight,  and  to 
look  upon  the  stars  shining  through  the  foliage  which  embosomed 
their  balcony.  As  they  sat  silent  and  alone,  they  heard  a  stealthy 
step  along  the  pavement  below,  and  a,  voice  sang,  in  low  tones,  to 
a  guitar,  beneath  the  windows  of  Consuelo's  sleeping  apartment, 
which,  like  that  of  Gertrude,  fronted  the  east.  They  knew  it 
to  be  Anzoleto.  His  re,  which  Consuelo  had  expressed  such 
hatred  of,  and  which  an  ear  of  rarest  cultivation  would  feel 
was  a  little  flat,  revealed  him  to  our  ladies.  Certain  it  was  that 
Anzoleto  was  a  fine  singer,  and  greatly  admired  by  the  ladies 
generally ;  even  by  those  who  held  the  highest  rank,  as  Aurora, 
Armida,  and  others.  But  he  was  utterly  regardless  of  them  all, 
and  only  seemed  anxious  to  recover  his  position  with  Consuelo. 
She,  however,  regarded  him  with  aversion,  and  would  never  sing 
even  a  duo  with  him.  Yet  he  was  ever  sighing  for  the  "  Star  of 
28* 


330  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

the  Palace,"  and  again  for  "  a  ray  from  the  Sun  of  his  Destiny ;  " 
compliments  which,  when  repeated  to  Consuelo,  always  called 
forth  new  expressions  of  aversion,  until  one  half  of  the  ladies 
in  the  Phalanstery  began  to  take  sides  with  Anzoleto.  Now,  if 
any  of  our  lady  readers  should  think  this  preposterous,  let  them 
remember  we  speak  of  ladies  of  the  Phalanx  only. 

After  singing  a  while,  our  ladies  heard  Consuelo's  window 
raised  a  little ;  and,  as  Anzoleto,  encouraged  by  this  recognition, 
elevated  his  voice,  they  heard  every  word  of  his  song,  which 
ran  thus : 

**  Give  all  to  love, 

Obey  thy  heart  ; 

Friends,  kindred,  days, 

Estate,  good-fame, 

Plans,  credit,  and  the  Muse,  — 

Nothing  refuse. 

"  'T  is  a  toave  master  ; 
Let  it  have  scope  : 
Follow  it  utterly, 
Hope  beyond  hope : 
High  and  more  high 
It  dives  into  noon, 
With  wing  unspent, 
Untold  intent  ; 
But  it  is  a  god, 
Knows  its  own  path, 
And  the  outlets  of  the  sky. 

"  It  was  not  for  the  mean  ; 
It  requireth  courage  stout, 
Souls  above  doubt, 


ANZOLETO'S  SONG.  331 

Valor  unbending  ; 
Still  't  will  reward,  — 
They  shall  return 
More  than  they  were, 
And  ever  ascending. 

«« Leave  all  for  love  ; 
Yet,  hear  me,  yet, 
One  word  more  thy  heart  behoved  ; 
One  pulse  more  of  firm  endeavor,  — 
Keep  thee  to-day, 
To-morrow,  forever, 
Free  as  an  Arab    * 
Of  thy  beloved. 

"  Cling  with  life  to  the  maid  ; 
But  when  the  surprise, 
First  vague  shadow  of  surmise, 
Flits  across  her  bosom  young, 
Of  a  joy  apart  from  thee, 
Free  be  she,  fancy-free  ; 
Nor  thou  detain  her  vesture's  hem, 
Nor  the  palest  rose  she  flung 
From  her  summer  diadem. 

"  Then  thou  loved  her  as  thyself ! 

As  a  self  of  purer  clay, 

Though  her  parting  dims  the  day, 

Stealing  grace  from  all  alive  ; 

Heartily  know, 

When  half-gods  go, 
,  The  gods  arrive." 


At  the  singing  of  this,  Consuelo's  casement  was  thrown  to  its 


332  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

height,  and  she  appeared  in  a  white  dress,  with  a  shawl  about 
her.     Anzoleto  then  sang  as  follows  : 

"  Dream  no  more.     Heaven 's  not  to  be,  — 

It  is  within,  around  you  ; 
Wake  from  a  selfish  lethargy, 
Where  misty  visions  bound  you. 

**  Cease  resting  on  a  joy,  to  start 

When  the  first  groan  shall  press  you  ; 
The  throbbing,  living,  longing  heart, 
Is  full  of  joys  to  bless  you. 

"  0,  dream  no  more  !    Hell 's  not  to  be,  — 

It  is  around,  within  you  ; 
What  are  the  groans  of  imagery 
To  those  from  earth  that  din  you  ? 

"  Awake,  and  live  !  't  is  dawn  at  last  ; 
Hark  !  how  your  brothers  call  you  ! 
Awake,  and  love  !  let  go  the  past  ; 
Shake  off  the  hate  that  thralls  you  ! 

"0,  dream  no  more  !  awake,  and  be,  — 

Let  Love  and  Beauty  bound  you  ! 
And  so,  at  last,  Humanity 
Shall  grow  a  heaven  around  you." 

Consuelo  spoke  in  low  tones,  too  low  to  be  understood,  when 
Anzoleto  threw  up  a  ball,  which  Consuelo  caught,  and  drew  up  a 
rope-ladder,  which  she  hooked  over  the  iron  frame-work  of  a 
small  balcony  before  the  window  at  which  she  stood.  This 
being  done,  Anzoleto,  with  the  agility  of  an  expert,  ascended, 
and  entered  the  apartment. 


"GIVE   ALL   TO   LOVE.'7  333 

"  Bear  Gertrude,"  said  Annie,  "  let  us  go  in ;  the  dew  is  fall 
ing,  —  and  I  think  we  may  say,  with  old  Doctor  Isaac  Watts, 

*  We  've  seen  an  end  of  what  they  call 
Perfection  here  below.'  " 

And  they  kept  this  in  the  depths  of  their  own  heart ;  for  Con 
suelo  had  been  believed  by  them  all  "  a  bright  particular  star," 
shining  in  the  cold  depths  of  her  own  heaven,  unclouded,  unsul 
lied,  and  alone ;  nor  could  they  deprive  their  husbands  of  such 
confidence,  —  for  it  was  precious  to  them,  a  part  of  themselves, 
that  they  should  have  faith  in  woman.* 

*  Doctors  of  Divinity,  and  divines  of  the  Cambridge  school,  are 
accustomed  to  use  texts  "  by  way  of  accommodation."  The  song  '*  Give 
all  to  Love  "  was  written  by  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  and  first  appeared 
in  The  Harbinger,  vol.  iv.,  No.  5,  for  Saturday,  January  9,  1847, 
for  which  it  was  written.  The  Harbinger  was  established  to  promote 
Fourierism  in  this  country.  "  Dream  no  More  "  is  taken  from  The  Har 
binger,  vol.  iv.,  No.  3,  December  26,  1846,  over  the  signature  E.  Y.  T. 
Our  readers  will  judge  as  to  the  fairness  of  the  use  made  of  them,  and 
their  fitness  in  the  narrative. 

"  Liberty,  according  to  Fourier,"  says  Godwin,  in  his  book  entitled 
"  Doctrines  of  Fourier,"  page  89,  "would  destroy  falsehood,  and  truth 
would  preside  over  all  the  relations  of  love."  Page  71.  —  "  There  will  be 
absolute  liberty  for  all,  even  for  children." 


834  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

OUR   PILGRIMS,  MRS.  COURTNEY,  AND   ADELAIDE,  RETURN  TO  VANITY 

FAIR. 

MRS.  COURTNEY'S  health  was  now  deemed  by  Oliver  equal  to 
the  fatigue  of  travelling ;  and  Adelaide  entreated  them  not  to 
leave  her  behind.  So  they  had  a  carriage-load  of  passengers ; 
and  how  were  they  to  be  transported  ?  Frank  said,  "  Never 
fear  !  we  shall  go  when  we  are  ready." 

The  next  day  brought  up  a  party  in  a  stage-coach  from  Van 
ity  Fair,  —  a  rare  event,  full  of  interest  to  all,  and  to  Frank 
especially.  Frank  went  round  to  the  stables,  and,  as  the  horses 
were  being  unharnessed,  he  said  to  the  driver,  "  I  would  like  to 
get  such  a  team  and  coach  for  my  own  use ;  what  will  you 
sell  them  for  ?  " 

The  man  said :  "  I  don't  care  much  to  sell  'em,  sir.  The 
coach,  you  see,  is  bran-new,  and  the  horses  can't  be  beat." 

"  That 's  the  reason  I  took  a  fancy  to  them,"  said  Frank. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  don't  care  to  sell,  any  how  ;  but  I  might  do  so 
for  three  thousand,  cash  on  the  nail ;  and  I  think  that 's  cheap." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Frank;  "and  here's  a  dollar  to  close  the 
bargain." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man ;  "  but  I  want  the  money  paid  me 
at  Vanity  Fair,  and  not  here." 

"  So  let  it  be,"  said  Frank.  "  This  coach  is  mine,  and  I  am 
to  pay  three  thousand  to  you  at  Vanity  Fair.  Now,  you  will  go 
with  me  as  a  passenger  outside,  for  I  shall  drive  myself." 


DEPARTURE  FROM  PHALANSTERY.        335 

"  Done,"  said  the  driver.  "  Now,  sir,  what  are  your  wishes 
respecting  your  coach  and  four,"  —  greatly  pleased  with  his 
bargain. 

"  To-morrow,  at  six  o'clock,  you  will  bring  the  carriage  round 
to  the  east  front,  and  see  my  baggage  carefully  placed  upon  it. 
See  my  horses  are  well  cared  for." 

That  night  our  pilgrims  packed  their  trunks,  and  made  all 
ready  to  move. 

In  the  morning,  soon  after  six,  the  coach  was  at  the  door,  the 
baggage  upon  it,  and  the  ladies  and  servants  in  it.  Theresa  and 
Theodore  were  the  only  ones  who  held  back ;  but  they  found 
they  must  go,  or  be  left  behind.  They  pleaded  the  loss  of  clothing 
belonging  to  them  and  the  ladies  ;  but  this  consideration  had  no 
weight  with  Frank.  The  coachman  sat  alongside  of  Frank,  who 
gathered  up  the  reins,  and,  with  a  grand  flourish  of  skill,  came 
round  to  the  front  portico,  where  many  of  the  inmates  of  the 
palace  were  promenading.  "  Going !  are  you  going !  "  were  the 
exclamations,  as  they  saw  who  were  in  the  stage. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Frank,  "  we  are  off." 

"  By  whose  authority,  sir,  do  you  take  this  stage-coach  ? " 
asked  an  Areopagite,  rushing  forward  from  the  palace. 

"  This  coach  and  team,  sir,  belong  to  me.  I  purchased  them 
of  this  man,  after  he  came  here,  for  three  thousand  dollars,  pay 
able  in  Vanity  Fair.  I  have  left  several  trunks  belonging  to 
these  ladies,  which  I  shall  send  for ;  you  will  see  them  delivered 
to  my  order.  And  I  now  hand  you  a  letter  to  the  count,  whose 
drafts  for  the  expenses  of  myself  and  friends  will  be  honored  on 
presentation."  So  saying,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  letter  he 
had  prepared  for  the  count. 


336  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

The  man  of  authority  took  the  letter  from  one  of  the  servant- 
men  who  picked  it  up ;  for  Frank  had  thrown  it  upon  the  portico. 
He  then  pointed  his  finger  to  the  stage-driver,  and  said,  "  Beware, 
sir,  how  you  ever  show  yourself  at  this  place  hereafter."  And 
then  to  Frank,  "  I  think,  sir,  you  are  leaving  us  by  stealth,  as 
though  you  were  among  thieves  and  robbers." 

"  Our  method,"  replied  Frank,  "may  not  be  precisely  what 
would  be  pleasing  to  ourselves  under  other  circumstances ;  but, 
as  to  thieves  and  robbers,  though  we  may  seem  such  to  you,  I 
believe,  sir,  we  do  not,  in  going,  leave  the  number  less." 

Consuelo  appeared  at  a  window,  and  manifested  her  surprise. 
Our  ladies  bowed,  and  our  gentlemen  took  off  their  hats  to  her ; 
when  Frank  gave  a  most  artistic  crack  to  his  whip,  which  caused 
his  team  to  spring,  and,  in  a  grand  style  of  horsemanship,  they 
set  off  down  the  lawn,  out  the  gates,  and  upon  the  road  leading 
over  the  mountains,  and  away. 

As  they  passed  out  through  the  gates.  Annie  put  out  her  head, 
and  cried  to  Frank,  "  Free !  free  !  " 

"  Safe  !  "  responded  Frank.    "  Safe  from  the  snares  of  Circe ! " 

"  0,  that  I,  too,  could  be  glad!  "  said  poor  Mrs.  Courtney; 
while  Adelaide  sat  quiet  and  very  grave.  She  was  returning  to 
society;  and  what  could  she  say  for  herself?  It  was  evident 
that  there  was  a  cloud  over  her  soul,  and  it  was  long  before  it 
was  dispelled. 

The  fourth  day's  journey  was  nearly  completed;  they  were 
within  ten  miles'  travel  of  Vanity  Fair,  when,  on  the  slope  of  a 
long  hill,  they  met  the  count,  and  a  party  of  six  gentlemen,  on 
horseback,  who  drew  up  on  both  sides  of  the  road  to  allow  the 
heavy  coach  to  rush  onward  unimpeded.  He  gave  one  stare  of 


RETURN    TO    VANITY    FAIR.  337 

astonishment  at  Frank,  who  was  sitting  beside  the  driver.  The 
look  of  his  party  • —  men  of  the  Phalanstery,  who  had  gone  as 
a  deputation  to  bring  the  count  back  —  was  observed  by  our 
travellers.  It  was  alike  on  all  faces  —  a  stare  of  blank  aston 
ishment. 

The  sun  had  set  before  the  city  was  reached.  Adelaide  spent 
the  night  at  the  pilgrims'.  Oliver  accompanied  Mrs.  Courtney  to 
her  father's  house,  where  she  was  received  with  groans  and  tears. 
Happily  her  husband  was  absent  in  the  country. 

The  next  day  Lord  Dielincoeur  called,  and  was  received.  He 
made  inquiries  of  a  general  character,  and  was  answered  with  all 
frankness.  He  complimented  our  ladies  upon  their  complexions, 
and  said  something  about  the  roses  of  paradise,  which  Annie 
really  did  not  hear,  though  addressed  to  her.  They,  on  their 
part,  asked  after  Lady  Di.,  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  Lord 
Shallbeso,  and  other  friends,  and  were  glad  to  receive  good 
accounts  of  them  all. 

Lady  Di.  called,  and  Lord  Shallbeso  ;  and,  as  was  natural,  the 
Phalanstery  was  talked  of,  its  scenery,  the  magnificence  of  the 
palace,  the  studios,  the  advantages  of  such  studies,  their  fitness 
for  the  development  of  the  soul.  All  such  topics  were  discussed; 
but  our  ladies  never  let  it  run  on  to  persons  or  manners.  The 
result  of  all  this  scrutiny  was  this :  That  our  pilgrims  were  the 
most  ignorant,  amiable,  unsuspecting,  stupid,  lovely,  ridiculous 
people  the  world  contained.  When  this  conviction  was  fully 
adopted  and  rested  in,  our  pilgrims  became  more  interesting  than 
ever  to  these  very  dear  friends  of  theirs. 
29 


338  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 

A    VISIT   TO   THE   DELECTABLE   MOUNTAINS. 

LOUD  and  Lady  Dielincoeur  renewed  their  invitation,  made  in 
the  early  spring,  for  our  pilgrims  to  be  one  of  their  guests  at 
their  country-seat,  near  the  Delectable  Mountains,  only  a  day's 
journey  from  the  city. 

They  had  made  up  a  party,  consisting  of  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Proudfit,  Mrs.  Bates,  Miss  Euphemia  T'nipnose,  Mrs.  Henry 
Gribbs,  and  some  young  gentlemen,  whose  names  are  not  worth 
enumerating.  Tom  T'nipnose,  however,  we  except ;  for  he  had 
just  returned  from  a  foreign  tour,  highly  accomplished,  as  most 
young  men  are,  now-a-days,  who  have  spent  two  or  three  years 
abroad. 

It  was  the  last  week  in  July ;  they  set  out  in  their  own  coach 
and  team,  which  Frank  had  retained  for  his  own  use  during  the 
summer,  and  reached  Bellevue  after  dark.  The  house  was  spa 
cious,  surrounded  with  noble  shade-trees.  Upon  the  veranda 
they  found  Lord  D.  and  his  gentlemen  guests,  in  the  luxury  of 
linen  jackets,  smoking  cigars;  while  ladies,  in  Swiss  muslin 
dresses,  smoked  their  cigarettes ;  one  of  the  fashions  introduced 
by  Mr.  Tom  T'nipnose,  who  assured  the  ladies  that  Mesdames 
Dudevant,  Ilachel,  Grisi,  and  all  the  ladies  of  highest  fashion, 
did  so,  and  it  would  be  "  decidedly  the  rage."  These  ladies  were 
taking  their  first  lessons  in  the  art. 

The  coming  of  Frank  Trueman  and  his  party  gave  great  joy ; 
to  none  more  so  than  to  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  and  Lord  and 


SOCIETY   AT   BELLEVUE.  339 

Lady  D.  After  they  had  been  refreshed  by  ablutions  of  cold 
water  and  a  change  of  dresses,  they  reappeared,  and  tea  was 
served  upon  the  veranda.  While  sipping  tea  they  had  the  first 
exhibition  of  Mr.  Tom's  skill  in  relating  his  travels. 

The  seat  of  Lord  DielincoDur  was  on  the  rise  of  a  spur  of  the 
Delectable  Hills,  which  reached  their  apex  at  some  ten  miles' 
distance.  The  scenery  was  charming  on  all  sides,  and  the 
atmosphere  health-inspiring.  For  Lord  D.'s  guests  every  species 
of  amusement  was  provided  ;  nine-pin  alleys,  five's  court,  swings, 
a  pistol-gallery,  and  a  billiard-room ;  also  horses  to  ride,  and 
dogs  and  guns  for  hunting ;  and  Tom  T'nipnose  for  a  racon 
teur  at  dinner,  and  upon  the  veranda  after  supper.  Tom  was 
a  favorite  of  Mrs.  Proudfit,  who  had  great  pleasure  in  drawing 
him  out,  and  showing  him  up.  With  all  Tom's  pains-taking, 
he  was  nothing  but  a  new  illustration  of  the  old  fable  of  the 
travelled  monkey.  At  last  he  came  to  dread  her  ridicule,  nor 
would  his  imagination  play  at  ease  in  her  presence. 

One  evening  he  had  been  telling  of  his  life  among  the  great 
men  of  family  and  fortune,  and  that  Grisi  had  noticed  him,  and 
sent  her  card  to  him  in  the  opera-house  by  her  page,  inviting 
him  behind  the  scenes  to  her  boudoir,  where  he  received  most 
flattering  attentions  from  that  eminent  lady.  Tom,  seeing  a 
polite  aspect  of  incredulity  on  the  faces  of  Gertrude  and  others 
present,  lifted  up  his  hand,  and  exclaimed,  "  Upon  my  life,  't  is 
true !  " 

Mrs.  Proudfit  came  out  of  the  door  of  the  house  on  tip-toe, 
and,  tapping  him  on  his  shoulder,  whispered,  a  stage-whisper, 
"  What  will  you  lay  it 's  a  lie?"  using  Major  Longbow's  famous 
phrase. 


340  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

Lord  D.  was  never  so  amiable  and  attentive  as  now ;  and,  if 
his  guests  were  not  happy,  it  was  no  fault  of  his.  Now,  to  keep 
twenty  idle  people  happy  was  no  ordinary  task  —  especially 
young  persons,  who  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  kill  time.  Of  all 
pursuits  that  is  the  most  wearisome;  for  it  has  nothing  of  joy  in 
rest  —  like  a  painting  which  has  no  background,  and  where  every 
form  is  draped  in  light.  Tom  T'nipnose  said  it  might  be 
described  as  "a  dinner  where  all  was  dessert,"  —  a  saying 
which  gained  him  much  applause  for  its  novelty. 

To  help  the  party  to  a  pleasant  day,  it  was  determined  the 
next  day  should  be  spent  in  ascending  the  Nebo  Mountain ;  and 
Lord  and  Lady  D.  gave  orders  for  inviting  their  neighbors  and 
their  guests,  making  ample  preparations  necessary  for  the 
journey  and  picnic. 

The  Delectable  Mountains  were  a  serrated  range,  sweeping 
the  horizon  on  the  north,  and  rising  about  four  thousand  feet. 
The  highest  of  all  was  called  Nebo,  from  which,  under  favor 
able  conditions  of  the  atmosphere,  the  Celestial  City  could  be 
seen. 

The  day  was  fine,  and  the  ascent  had  been  pleasantly  made. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  Nebo,  high  in  air,  the  party  were  led 
to  a  sheltered  cave,  to  which  the  servants  had  brought  up  the 
baskets  from  the  point  where  the  horses  were  left,  and  at  which 
climbing  commenced.  The  dinner  was  carefully  spread,  and 
nothing  was  wanting  but  water.  That  was  usually  supplied  by 
tanks  formed  by  nature  in  the  rocks ;  but,  as  there  had  been  a 
long  drought,  not  a  drop  of  water  could  be  found.  This  great 
want  was,  however,  amply  supplied  by  the  wines  brought  up ; 
and  Lord  D.  recommended  to  our  ladies  a  light  wine,  very  deli- 


SIGHT-SEEING   ON   THE  NEBO.  341 

cious,  and,  as  lie  said,  not  more  exciting  than  coffee.  As  most 
of  the  party  had  made  a  tour  on  the  continent,  they  drank  this 
wine  as  if  it  were  water.  It  was  regarded  so  very  light  that 
most  preferred  champagne,  which  they  drank  in  goblets.  Tom, 
holding  up  his  goblet,  begged  to  be  heard,  for  the  gayety  of  the 
cavern  was  getting  to  be  noisy.  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said 
Tom,  "  we  don't  often  get  so  high  as  this  so  early  in  the  day,  and 
I  propose  we  make  a  day  of  it." 

This  explosion  of  Tom's  wit  was  ample  apology  for  a  general 
emptying  of  the  goblets.  Our  ladies  and  gentlemen  confined 
themselves  to  the  light  wine  recommended  by  Lord  D.,  which  was 
regarded  as  so  very  innocent.  The  cigar-cases,  being  produced 
by  the  young  gentlemen,  were  handed  round  to  the  ladies,  when 
Annie  and  Gertrude  rose,  followed  by  their  husbands,  who,  by  a 
sort  of  marriage-vow,  had  pledged  their  sacred  honor  never  to  do 
anything  they  were  unwilling  should  be  done  by  their  wives,  —  a 
most  admirable  compact,  and  worthy  of  all  imitation. 

They  left  the  cavern  when  the  cigars  were  lit,  followed  by 
some  of  the  ladies,  who  declared  against  the  perfumery  of  cigar- 
smoke  being  hid  away  in  their  clothes  and  curls.  These  ladies 
called  to  a  servant  to  bring  them  up  their  optic-glasses,  and  led 
the  way  to  the  summit  of  the  Nebo,  whence  the  Celestial  City 
was  sometimes  to  be  seen.  The  point  they  reached  was  made  up 
of  high  masses  of  stone,  rising  from  the  point  of  verdure  hun 
dreds  of  feet  below.  These  masses  of  rock  lay  in  long  lines  of 
ledges.  It  was  wild  and  fearful  to  stand  and  gaze  below.  And, 
now,  what  was  to  be  seen  ?  This  was  an  inquiry  made  at  once 
by  our  pilgrims.  To  their  eyes,  the  mountain  on  the  north  side 
gunk  down  abruptly  to  the  plain,  showing  a  wide  morass  to  the 
29* 


342  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

verge  of  the  horizon,  along  which  were  seen  mountains  of  a  like 
configuration  as  that  on  which  they  stood,  running  like  waves  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  !  "  exclaimed  Annie. 

"  You  did  n't  expect  to  see  anything  with  your  naked  eye,  did 
you?"  asked  Miss  Grulphin.  "That  would  be  bringing  the 
Celestial  City  a  little  too  near." 

"  I  think  it  would,  indeed !  "  replied  Miss  Euphemia. 

"  Wait  until  our  glasses  arrive,  and  perhaps  they  may  suit 
your  eyes,"  said  another  young  lady ;  for  this  party  was  increased 
by  the  guests  of  the  country-seats  of  Mr.  Wells  and  Mr.  Varick, 
making  the  number  in  all  from  thirty  to  forty  persons. 

The  servant  brought  a  basket  of  optic-glasses,  carefully  packed 
in  cotton  layers,  and  each  lady  selected  her  own  glass.  These, 
to  look  at,  were  nothing  different  from  opera-glasses.  They  all 
had  an  adjusting  screw,  but  were  entirely  different  in  their  man 
ufacture  as  to  size  and  power.  While  the  young  ladies  were 
adjusting  their  glasses,  Frank  and  his  party  were  trying  one  glass 
after  another,  at  every  conceivable  angle  of  vision  and  point  of 
adjustment,  and  yet  saw  nothing  but  sky,  blue  sky,  and  nothing 
else.  At  no  focus  could  they  distinguish  anything ;  and  it 
was  with  surprise  they  saw  these  young  ladies  gazing  intently 
upon  the  distant  mountains.  Several  of  these  young  ladies  had 
two  glasses,  and  would  look  a  while  through  one,  and  then  use 
the  other ;  but,  when  our  pilgrims  asked  to  look  through  them, 
they  could  see  nothing. 

"Why  did  n't  you  get  glasses  to  suit  your  eyes  in  Vanity 
Fair  ?  "  asked  Miss  Euphemia  T'riipnose. 

"  We  were  not  told  that  glasses  were  necessary,"  replied  An- 


CELESTIAL   SIGHTS  FROM  THE  NEBO.  343 

me ;  "  but,  shall  I  look  through  yours  ?  —  perhaps  I  may  see 
something," 

"  Not  if  you  hold  it  in  your  hands,"  said  Euphemia ;  "  but,  if 
I  hold  it  with  my  right  hand,  and  you'  with  your  left,  and  then  I 
hold  your  hand  in  mine,  or  I  put  my  hand  round  your  waist  and 
yours  round  mine,  so  as  to  form  a  baquet,  or  chain  of  animal 
magnetism,  then  you  will  see  just  as  clearly  as  myself." 

"Indeed!  and  is  that  it?"  were  the  exclamations  of  surprise 
at  this  new  wonder  in  optical  science. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Euphemia,  "  this  is  an.  age  of  wonders ;  and  seeing 
at  second-sight  is  nothing  new,  after  all," 

Gertrude  and  Euphemia  formed  a  chain ;  and  at  once  it  was 
obvious  that  Gertrude  was  no  longer  seeing  nothing  but  the  sky. 
She  showed  herself  absorbed  and  surprised. 

"  What  do  you  see,  Gertrude  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  I  see,"  said  Gertrude,  "  a  beautiful  palace,  surrounded  with 
pleasure-grounds  and  lawns,  dressed  in  the  brightest  sunshine; 
there  are  little  shrines,  with  crucifixes,  on  artificial  mounds,  which 
are  ascended  by  marble  steps.  Ah  !  now  there  comes  out  of  the 
palace  a  procession,  led  by  a  bishop  in  his  canonicals,  and  he  is 
followed  by  a  train  of  young  priests.  And  now  a  like  train  of 
the  most  beautiful  girls,  with  veils  hanging  down  from  their  heads 
to  their  feet ;  and  they  seem  to  be  chanting  out  of  books  they 
hold  in  their  hands.  The  bishop  now  mounts  the  steps  of  the 
shrine,  and  prostrates  himself  before  it,  and  crosses  himself,  while 
the  young  priests  and  the  young  nun-like  girls  kneel  promiscu 
ously  around  the  little  mound  upon  the  green  grass.  0,  it  is 
very  pretty,  and  looks  so  very  pious !  And  —  "  Here  Gertrude 
held  her  breath  in  astonishment ;  then,  taking  the  glass  from  her 


344  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

face,  she  looked  at  Euphemia  with  surprise.     Euphemia  having 
held  the  glass  to  her  eye,  "  0,  that 's  nothing  ! "  she  cried. 

Frank  and  Oliver  and  Annie  were  now  eager  to  form  chains 
with  the  young  ladies,  and  were  all  wonderfully  interested  in 
what  they  witnessed.  This  was  evinced  by  their  exclamations, 
and  irrepressible  laughter  at  the  odd  sights  which,  by  some  strange 
hocus-pocus,  they  were  made  to  see.  The  young  girls  were  never 
weary  of  holding  their  glasses  up  for  Frank  and  Oliver ;  nor 
were  our  gentlemen  weary  of  sight-seeing. 

Lord  and  Lady  Dielincoeur,  and  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Proudfit, 
coming  up  with  their  optic-glasses,  and  seeing  how  much  our 
friends  were  delighted  with  this  sort  of  second-sight,  politely 
invited,  and  even  urged,  them  to  look  through  their  glasses,  which 
were,  they  said,  very  large  and  splendid.  Annie  at  once  con 
sented,  as  did  Oliver  and  Frank.  Lady  Di.  and  Oliver,  Frank 
and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  having  paired  off,  Lord  D.  invited  Annie  to 
form  a  chain  with  him,  thus  leaving  Gertrude  to  Col.  Proudfit. 
They  were  led  by  Lady  Di.  to  a  point  far  away  from  the  groups 
of  the  picnic  party ;  it  being,  as  she  said,  better  sheltered  from  the 
breeze,  which  at  that  height  was  clear  and  cold.  Coming  to  seats 
nature  had  formed,  they  sat  down  apart  as  these  could  be  found. 

Lady  Di.  held  her  glass  with  her  right  hand  to  Oliver's  eyes, 
while  her  left  hand  came  caressingly  under  his  cheek,  and  her 
head  drooped  upon  his  shoulder.  The  propinquity  of  Frank  and 
Mrs.  Proudfit  would  have  astonished  Gertrude  had  she  not  been 
too  much  occupied  with  sight-seeing  to  observe  anything  so  near 
to  her  as  her  husband.  Nor  was  Lord  D.  less  favorably  disposed 
of.  And,  inasmuch  as  it  was  necessary  to  make  the  chain  in 
order  to  see,  all  the  accessories  were  overlooked  and  unnoticed  in 


EFFECTS  UPON  THE   PILGRIMS.  345 

the  wonders  revealed.  And  what  did  they  see  ?  They  saw,  first, 
a  vapor,  which,  when  it  cleared  up,  revealed  them,  paired  as  they 
all  were,  walking  in  a  garden  which  realized  to  their  vision 
paradise.  Various  groups  and  many  lovely  scenes  passed  before 
them ;  or,  rather,  they  were  transported  into  the  midst  of  beauty. 
But  it  was  no  more  Frank  and  Gertrude,  but  Frank  and  Mrs. 
Proudfit,  Oliver  and  Lady  Di.,LordD.  and  Annie,  Gertrude  and 
Colonel  Proudfit.  Gertrude's  heart  rebelled.  She  pushed  the 
glass  from  her,  and,  rubbing  her  forehead  and  eyes,  she  slowly 
recovered  her  consciousness.  When  she  came  to  full  possession 
of  herself,  she  saw  Lady  Di.  with  her  arms  around  Oliver,  looking 
with  intense  fondness  into  his  face.  From  Oliver  she  looked  to 
Frank,  and  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Proudfit  rested  upon  him  with  the 
power  of  a  basilisk.  Annie,  too,  sat  eagerly  gazing  through  the 
glass,  while  Lord  D.'s  eyes  were  fastened  upon  her  with  a  con 
centration  of  soul  that  filled  Gertrude  with  alarm.  It  was 
demoniacal.  Roused  at  once  to  her  feet,  Gertrude  ran  to  Frank 
and  shook  him.  "  Have  you  not  seen  enough  of  this  ?  "  Her 
tones  were  thrilling,  and  recalled  Frank  from  the  world  of  visions 
to  the  world  of  realities.  Annie  and  Oliver,  too,  were  recalled ; 
but  they  did  not  recover  from  their  entire  abnegation,  as  did 
Lord  D.,  Lady  Di.,  and  Mrs.  Proudfit,  who  instantly  resumed 
their  natural  positions  and  speech,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Not  so  the  subjects  of  their  spells.  They  came  out  of  a  i ranee- 
like  state  of  mind  strangely  confused  and  excited.  Could  it  be 
the  wine  or  the  sight-seeing  ?  They  could  not  begin  to  analyze 
their  states  of  feeling  at  that  time,  nor  could  they  for  some  days ; 
indeed,  not  for  a  long  time  afterwards  did  they  suspect  that  they 
were  spell-bound,  the  subjects  of  malign  influences. 


346  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 


CHAPTER  LXIY. 

COGITATIONS    OF    OUR    PILGRIMS   AS   TO    THE    SIGHTS    SEEN    ON    THE 
DELECTABLE    MOUNTAINS. 

MRS.  OUTRIGHT  and  Mrs.  Trucman,  one  hot  summer's  day,  had 
been  sitting  silent  some  time,  busily  engaged  with  their  sewing, 
while  Frank  and  Oliver  were  sitting  at  the  windows  reading  to 
themselves.  'Mrs.  Outright  broke  her  needle  and  her  silence  at 
the  same  time ;  and,  to  bring  the  circle  into  sympathy,  she  ad 
dressed  herself  to  Frank. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me,  Frank,  what  you  saw  through  Miss 
T'nipnose's  opera-glass  that  amused  you  so  much." 

This  arrested  the  attention  of  both  Frank  and  Gertrude.  He 
replied,  in  an  amused,  cheerful  tone, 

"  It  was  so  queer  to  look  first  through  one  opera-glass,  and 
then  the  other !  In  the  opera-glass  which  had  the  Oxford  grind 
and  manufacture,  there  were  groups  of  young  nuns  and  Jesuits, 
all  so  pious,  at  one  instant  praying  before  a  cross ;  —  and  then 
up  with  the  opera-glass  that  bore  the  old  Swede's  stamp,  and  these 
same  nuns  and  Jesuits,  arrayed  in  gay  robes,  with  flowers  and 
garlands,  were  dancing  and  making  love  to  each  other.  Then, 
again,  up  with  the  Oxford  opera-glass,  and  these  same  pious  nuns 
and  young  Jesuits  were  doing  the  same  thing ;  and  so  it  went  on, 
either  praying,  or  singing,  or  dancing,  or  making  love,  was  the 
order  of  the  day.  Kneeling  at  the  shrine  of  the  Cross,  or  before 
a  young  girl,  seemed  to  be  the  business  of  the  world  of  phantasms 
which  I  saw  apparently  beyond  the  Jordan." 

"  Which  did  you  like  best  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

Frank  replied :  "0,1  think  the  view  in  Swedenborg's  optic- 


MAGICAL   OPTIC-GLASSES.  347 

glass  was  most  like  scenes  which  swarm  into  the  imaginations  of 
the  young.  It  was  always  one  thing.  All  I  saw  were  brides 
and  grooms,  attended  by  angels,  who  acted  as  bridesmaids  and 
groomsmen ;  and  then  the  feastings  and  frolics  after  the  wed 
dings  were  just  what  we  of  earth  would  like  to  share  in." 

"  But  what  did  you  think  of  Lady  Di.'s  glass,  Oliver?"  asked 
Annie. 

He  answered :  "  The  palace,  the  garden,  and  scenery,  in  Lady 
Di.'s  glass,  seemed  very  like  all  that  I  had  looked  through.  I 
was  most  interested  in  the  pursuits  and  relationships  existing 
on  the  other  side  of  Jordan.  Now,  while  I  looked  through  Lady 
Di.'s  glass,  there  were  groups  of  enamored  people,  all  in  pairs, 
gracefully  and  beautifully  expressing  their  love  for  each  other. 
I  never  conceived  before  the  power  of  the  eye,  the  grace  of  a 
smile,  as  in  looking  through  her  opera-glass.  But,  then,  I  was 
there  the  enamored  of  Lady  Di.,  Proudfit  was  the  enamored  of 
Gertrude,  Frank  of  Mrs.  Proudfit,  and  you,  Annie,  of  Lord  Die- 
Iinco3ur ;  and  in  all  the  scenes  which  passed  over  the  screen  of 
my  optic  nerve  I  was  loving  and  loved  of  Lady  Di." 

"  How  can  you  speak  so  pleasantly  of  this  strange,  hateful 
diablerie  ?  "  said  Gertrude.  "  I  believe  it  was  very  wicked  in 
us  all,  and  most  of  all  wicked  in  me." 

"  Dear  wife,  why  you  more  than  me  ?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  Because  I  had  already  had  a  look  through  Miss  T'nipnose's 
optic-glas*,  and  that  should  have  satisfied  me." 

"Oliver,  is  there  no  explanation  of  this?"  asked  Frank, 
anxious  to  relieve  Gertrude  from  that  feeling  of  wounded  deli 
cacy  she  evidently  experienced,  like  a  blister  upon  her  skin. 

"  I  have  my  suspicions,  but  I  hate  to  express  them,  replied 
Oliver.  "  I  think  the  holding  of  the  hand  had  something  to  do 


348  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

with  it ;  and  that,  in  some  way,  ideas  in  the  brains  of  those 
whose  hands  we  each  held  were  transfused,  by  some  power  not 
known  to  us,  and  painted,  so  to  speak,  upon  our  optic  nerves. 
We  saw  their  ideas,  as  we  see  the  pictures  on  a  glass  slide  of  a 
magic  lantern  cast  upon  a  white  wall." 

"  You  are  very  astute,  Oliver  ;  but  you  seem  to  have  forgotten 
one  thing  which  may  explain  it  all  without  any  philosophy,"  said 
Annie.  "  The  wine  !  the  wine  !  remember  the  sweet  wine  we 
drank  for  want  of  water  !  " 

"The  wine  —  yes,"  replied  Frank;  "  it  may  have  had  some 
thing  to  do  with  it ;  but  I  rather  go  for  Oliver's  explanation  than 
yours." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  Annie ;  "  and,  indeed,  so  do  I,  for  both 
Gertrude  and  myself  have  thought  of  one  very  odd  and  con 
stant  manifestation  in  all  this  sight-seeing.  I  refer  to  this  new 
matching  of  us,  and  pairing  us  off.  Has  not  this  occurred  to 
you  ?  " 

The  idea  now  reached  both  husbands  for  the  first  time  as 
something  strange,  very  strange.  "  What  could  it  mean  ?  " 

"  My  dear  gentlemen,"  said  Annie  ;  "  and  if  it  is  so,  can't  you 
help  us  ?  "  The  eyes  of  the  ladies  met  with  a  glance  of  recog 
nition  of  each  other's  thoughts,  at  the  instant,  and  both 
blushed. 

"  You,  Oliver,  are  not  as  wise  as  Solomon,  though  a  great 
philosopher,"  said  Annie ;  "  and  Frank,  though  he  is  our  Selden, 
is,  after  all,  no  Solomon.  And  even  Solomon,  the  Preacher, 
confesses  himself  ignorant  and  mystified  about  some  things." 
And  here  the  matter  rested. 


THE   CAMP-MEETING.  349 


CHAPTER   LXV. 

THEY    GO    TO    THE    CAMP-GROUND    WHERE    THE    FEAST    OF   THE    TAB 
ERNACLES   IS   BEING   HELD. 

THE  days  were  long,  and  time  hung  heavily  upon  the  inmates 
of  Bellevue,  and  especially  upon  our  pilgrims.  The  other  guests 
contrived  to  amuse  themselves  in  playing  cards,  learning  new 
dances,  with  more  and  more  of  abandon  in  their  gyrations. 
Some  would  get  into  the  arbors  and  smoke  cigarettes ;  indeed, 
there  was  nothing  fashionable,  or  likely  to  become  so,  but  what 
these  young  folks  willingly  adopted.  There  was  only  one  ques 
tion  asked :  "  Are  you  sure  this  will  be  fashionable  next 
winter  ?  " 

Fred.  Graham,  one  of  the  "  men  about  town,"  and  the  lover 
of  Euphemia  T'nipnose,  came  up  from  town  and  told  of  a  "  camp- 
meeting  just  commencing  operations  in  a  beautiful  grove,  about 
eight  miles  off."  He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  at  what  he  had  seen 
while  there.  He  said  :  "So  many  pretty  girls  he  never  saw  col 
lected  before  ;  and  young  gentlemen,  too,  in  any  number,  with  a 
fair  sprinkling  of  mammas  and  papas,  and  preachers.  All  the 
preaching  was  done  in  the  open  air  in  the  grove,  and  all  the 
sleeping  under  tents  and  covered-wagons;  and  he  hoped  Lady 
Di.  would  make  up  a  party  and  join  them.*' 
30 


350  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  0,  it  is  the  very  thing !  "  said  the  girls  and  their  young 
gentlemen  friends. 

"  Sleeping  under  tents  —  won't  that  be  fine  fun  !  "  said  Tom. 
And  it  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  if  a  tent  could  be  had 
large  enough  to  cover  them,  it  would  be  charming,  indeed.  And, 
as  is  always  the  case  where  an  idea  is  started  among  idle  people, 
the  suggestion  was  pursued  with  zeal.  Lord  and  Lady  D.  were 
appealed  to,  and  asked  if  it  were  possible  to  accomplish  such  a 
delightful  project. 

My  lord  at  first  thought  it  impracticable.  Miss  Gulphin  sug 
gested  to  send  for  a  mainsail  of  one  of  her  father's  vessels,  and, 
by  putting  a  long  pole  in  the  crotch  of  two  trees,  it  could  be 
stretched  over  as  carpets  are  to  be  dusted.  Lady  Di.  preferred 
carpets,  of  which  she  had  a  plenty  ;  and  said  that  then,  instead 
of  one  tent,  they  could  have  six,  if  they  pleased. 

Col.  and  Mrs.  Proudfit  were  in  favor  of  six  tents  instead  of 
one ;  and  Lady  Di.  took  her  husband  aside  and  had  a  confab, 
when  he  came  back  to  the  veranda,  where  this  project  was  being 
discussed,  and  said  :  "  Ladies,  your  wishes  shall  be  complied 
with.  Lady  Di.'s  plan  I  am  satisfied  is  best,  —  as  is  always  the 
case,"  he  added,  with  a  bow,  which  his  lady  gracefully  acknowl 
edged. 

The  next  day  and  the  day  following  were  occupied  by  the 
household  and  guests  in  getting  ready  for  the  camp-ground.  The 
servants  had  been  sent  forward  on  Saturday  morning  with  car 
pets,  and  all  the  requisite  camp-equipage  of  cots,  camp-bedsteads, 
mattresses,  tables,  and  the  like ;  and  after  dinner  the  household 
set  off,  with  the  selected  servants,  for  the  camp-ground.  They 
found  their  tents  scattered  around  on  the  outskirts  of  the  camp 


THE   CAMP-GROUND.  351 

proper,  wherever  the  trees  for  supporting  the  cross-pole  which 
held  up  the  carpet  could  best  be  found.  Everything  was  done  up 
nicely.  One  tent  was  devoted  to  the  kitchen ;  one  was  called 
the  parlor-tent ;  one  assigned  to  Lord  D.,  Col.  P.,  and  our  gen 
tlemen  ;  one  to  the  ladies  ;  another  to  the  gentlemen ;  and  one  to 
Lady  Di.,  Mrs.  Proudfit,  and  our  lady -pilgrims.  Their  servants 
made  their  homes  in  the  covered-wagons.  The  young  people 
declared  their  pallets  of  straw  were  delightful,  and  the  scenery 
delightful,  and  the  camp  delightful;  in  a  word,  everything,  in 
the  judgment  of  the  party,  was  delightful,  and  all  were  delighted. 
What  a  pretty  word  it  is !  No  wonder  it  is  in  such  repute. 

The  camp  was  formed  upon  and  around  a  natural  hollow,  level 
at  the  bottom  for  three  hundred  feet  in  diameter.  This  was  open. 
A  slope,  reaching  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  all  sides,  was  covered 
over  with  shade-trees  and  undergrowth.  The  brushwood  around 
the  inner  circle  had  been  carefully  grubbed  out,  and  the  thickets 
and  trees  closed  in  the  amphitheatre  on  all  sides.  Nothing  could 
be  better  adapted  for  a  camp-ground.  A  well  of  pure  water 
was  dug  in  the  centre  of  the  hollow,  which  proved  to  be  never- 
failing.  It  wras  this  hollow  that  had  given  to  this  picturesque 
spot  the  name  of  the  "  Devil's  Punch-bowl ; "  but,  when  its 
facilities  for  a  camp-ground  became  known,  the  religionists  of 
Yanity  Fair,  who  regarded  it  a  first  duty  to  hold  an  annual 
"  Feast  of  Tabernacles  "  in  the  open  air,  purchased  this  land,  and 
it  was  consecrated  by  them  to  this  use. 

The  seats  were  of  oaken  planks,  made  smooth,  and  rose  on  all 
sides,  with  aisles  leading  to  the  minister's  stand.  On  the  eastern 
side  of  the  hollow  was  "  The  Preacher's  Stand,"  and  in  front 
of  this  an  enclosure  for  converts,  known  as  "  The  Pen."  This 


352  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

had  benches  on  the  sides,  and  a  plank  floor,  which  was  covered 
with  clean  straw.  The  preacher's  stand  would  hold  fifty  per 
sons,  if  necessary;  and  two  thousand  could  be  comfortably 
seated  in  the  amphitheatre.  All  around,  under  the  shade-trees, 
and  next  the  open  space,  were  tents  spacious  enough  for  one  or 
more  families.  These  rose  three  deep,  leaving  ample  space  be 
tween  the  circles ;  beside  these,  the  covered-wagons  (each  a  tem 
porary  home)  were  sprinkled  far  and  wide  to  the  summit-level 
of  the  land. 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 

THE   REVEREND   BROTHER    SOFTANDSWEET. 

THE  number  of  persons  present  on  Saturday  evening,  at  six 
o'clock,  was  in  all  about  three  thousand,  men,  women,  and  chil 
dren.  This  number  was  greatly  increased  on  the  next  day, 
Sunday,  which  was  appropriately  called  "  The  Great  Day  of  the 
Feast," 

Between  the  hours  of  six  and  seven,  the  multitude  supped ; 
and  the  younger  members  of  the  camp,  girls  with  and  without 
bonnets,  and  young  gentlemen  in  frock-coats  and  straw  hats,  were 
seen  climbing  the  sides  of  the  amphitheatre,  from  whence  a  beau 
tiful  prospect  of  the  land  and  a  lake  was  to  be  seen.  The  love 
liness  of  this  scenery  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Lord  D.  and 
his  party  as  they  approached  the  Devil's  Punch-bowl ;  for  so  it 
was  still  familiarly  called. 


ANNIE'S  PRECAUTION.  353 

The  fathers  and  mothers,  in  sober  dresses  of  extreme  simplicity, 
at  sunset  made  their  appearance,  and  busied  themselves  in  light 
ing  rows  of  lamps ;  which,  when  lit,  were  hoisted  up  into  the 
trees,  and  formed  festoons  of  light  on  all  sides.  As  darkness 
grew  on,  these  lamps,  and  the  mass  of  light  in  and  about  the 
ministers'  stand,  gave  new  interest  to  the  place.  A  signal-horn, 
for  the  evening  service,  was  now  sounded,  which  rang  around  the 
hills,  recalling  the  wanderers.  A  great  tent  disgorged  the  preach 
ers,  who  had  been  holding  a  meeting  of  conference,  who  took 
their  places  in  the  minister's  stand ;  and  the  seats  bega'n  to  fill  up 
rapidly.  At  this  moment,  our  pilgrims  were  requested  by  Lady 
Di.'s  maid  to  come  to  their  parlor-tent  to  tea;  and  our  gentle 
men  proposed  to  go,  but  their  ladies  preferred  to  attend  divine 
service.  As  the  gentlemen  would  have  their  tea,  and  the  ladies 
would  hear  the  sermon,  a  separation  was  unavoidable. 

"  While  we  are  here,  we  ladies  ask  of  you,  our  protectors,  not 
to  be  separated  from  us.  Do  you  promise  ?  "  said  Annie.  To 
which  Frank  responded  affirmatively;  but  Oliver  seemed  doubt 
ful  as  to  making  any  such  pledge.  "  Why  do  you  hesitate, 
Oliver  ?  "  asked  his  wife. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  tie  us  with  an  extra  knot  to  your 
apron-string !  Among  these  pious,  godly  people  you  can  be  in 
no  danger  of  being  run  away  with,  unless  it  be  by  some  of  the 
preachers." 

"  Seriously,  Oliver,"  said  Annie,  "  though  you  are  in  no 
danger,  your  wife  may  be.  We  are  to  sleep  in  a  tent  with  Lady 
Di.  and  Mrs.  Proudfit.  Do  you  see  us  there  at  night,  and  be 
there  to  meet  us  at  sunrise  in  the  morning;  —  that  is  the  protec 
tion  I  ask  for  myself  and  Gertrude." 
30* 


354  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  I  really  can't  divine  what  danger  you  dread,"  said  Oliver. 

"  No  matter,  Oliver,"  said  Frank ;  "  if  our  wives  want  pro 
tection  here,  there  are  none  we  can  trust  so  confidently  as  our 
selves." 

"  But  what  will  Lord  and  Lady  D.  say  to  this  ?  "  said  Oliver. 

"  Ah !  very  true,"  said  his  wife,  with  some  severity  of  tone. 
"  I,  too,  have  had  them  in  mind.  Should  Lady  Di.  make  any 
remark,  please  refer  her  to  me." 

Oliver  may  have  been  used  to  such  speeches,  for  it  made  no 
impression  upon  him,  nor  did  it  seem  to  rouse  him  from  his  pre 
occupied  condition  of  mind.  But  Frank  observed  it,  for  he  saw 
in  Gertrude's  face  a  look  of  anxiety ;  so  he  asked  of  Annie, 
"  May  I  ask,  what  do  you  mean?  " 

Colonel  Proudfit  came  up  at  the  instant,  and  Annie  looked  a 
reply  —  «  Not  now,  but  hereafter."  The  colonel  asked  our  ladies 
if  it  was  not  tea-time,  saying  he  was  just  on  his  way  to  their 
parlor-tent;  but  the  ladies  said  they  did  not  want  tea — that  they 
preferred  going  to  meeting.  As  they  separated,  "  Don't  forget, 
Frank  !  "  said  Gertrude.  Frank  bowed  his  reply,  and  our  gen 
tlemen  walked  away  with  Colonel  Proudfit  to  tea,  while  their 
ladies  descended  into  the  camp  for  the  sermon. 

The  best  of  the  seats  were  already  taken ;  so  Annie  and  Ger 
trude  went  down  to  the  spring,  and  then  mounted  toward  the 
preacher's  stand.  Finding  the  benches  there  occupied,  and  seeing 
vacant  seats  in  the  pen,  they  went  in,  and  there  they  sat  them 
selves  down,  to  the  surprise  of  all  the  congregation.  Their 
fashionable  air  and  dress  at  once  assured  the  assembly  of  their 
being  entire  strangers.  A  lovely  girl  came  and  took  a  seat  be 
side  them,  whispering  to  them,  "  Ladies,  you  have  seated  your- 
selves  in  the  pen." 


BROTHER   SOFTANDSWEET.  355 

"  Do  we  intrude  upon  any  one  ?  "  asked  Annie. 

"  0,  no  !  only  this  pen  will  be  wanted  by  and  by  for  mourn 
ers,  but  not  until  after  sermon.  You  can  sit  here,  if  you  please  ; 
and  it  is  a  better  seat  than  any  one  to  be  had  now,  and  I  will  sit 
by  you,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear,"  said  Gertrude.  "  Who  is  to  preach 
this  evening  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  0  !  we  are  to  have  Brother  Softandsweet,  the  most  eloquent 
man  in  all  our  church  —  and  he  's  such  a  favorite ! "  said  the 
girl,  with  greatest  enthusiasm  of  manner.  "  He  has  only  returned 
from  a  long  absence  a  few  weeks  since." 

That  our  readers  may  be  prepared  for  the  treat  awaiting  them, 
and  which  filled  the  crowded  assembly  with  delightful  anticipa 
tion,  we  will  give  some  account  of  this  popular  divine.  /;T(/}1 

Brother  Softandsweet  was  a  small,  graceful  person,  whose 
beautiful  complexion,  black  hair,  and  brilliant  eyes,  would  have 
won  for  him  the  admiration  of  ladies,  without  the  advantage  of 
being  seen  in  the  pulpit ;  which,  at  least,  was  a  feather  in  his 
cap.  But  his  beauty  of  face,  graceful  manners,  and  speaking 
brilliancy  of  eyes,  were  all  forgotten  in  the  melody  of  his  voice. 
This  was  enchanting  —  nothing  could  be  more  perfect ;  nor  was  it 
unaided  and  alone.  He  had  a  vivid  fancy,  and  a  great  command 
of  words.  His  thoughts  were  not  strong  presentation  of  solemn 
truths  with  the  unction  of  piety,  so  much  as  solemn  truths  clothed 
in  fine  language,  and  presented  in  a  graceful  manner.  Was  hell 
opened  for  the  inspection  of  his  auditors,  —  they  were  delighted 
with  the  splendors  of  the  conflagration.  Did  he  open  the  gates 
of  paradise,  —  he  knew  all  about  the  place.  Had  he  been  one  of 


356  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

those  men  whom  Captain  Gulliver  describes  as  strulbrugs,  in  his 
celebrated  voyages,  or,  as  the  daily  journals  would  say,  "  one  of 
the  oldest  inhabitants,"  who  had  come  down,  rejuvenated,  he 
could  not  have  been  more  familiar  with  the  place,  its  inhabitants, 
and  their  occupations.  It  would,  in  his  case,  have  been  of  no 
avail  to  have  reminded  him  of  the  authority  of  one  Paul  in  such 
matters;  indeed,  Paul  was  regarded  as  belonging  to  the  "old 
side  "  party,  and  portions  of  his  epistles  Brother  Softandswcet 
ignored  entirely.  But,  of  all  things,  Brother  Softandsweet  was 
great  upon  the  ladies.  These  he  described  as  "  angels  wanting 
only  in  wings  to  soar  away  to  their  native  skies."  This  phrase 
was  a  favorite  of  his,  and  was  made  to  tell  upon  all  extraordinary 
occasions. 

It  was  no  wonder  he  stirred  up  their  susceptible  souls,  when 
he  spoke  of  women — "  last  at  the  cross,  and  first  at  the  tomb  " 
—  as  "  weeping  Marys,"  "  devoted  Salomes,"  "  benevolent 
Dorcases,"  "  anxious  Marthas."  No  one  could,  at  such  a 
time,  believe  any  beings  other  than  saints  and  angels  belonged 
to  womanhood.  The  mind  was  not  able,  under  the  spell  of  his 
eloquence,  to  believe,  under  any  transformation,  such  beings  of 
beauty,  of  sensibility,  of  fond  affection,  of  untiring  devotion 
(gasping  and  catching  his  breath  at  every  epithet,  in  a  way 
wonderful  to  witness,  and  peculiar  to  the  school  of  eloquence  to 
which  Brother  Softandsweet  belonged),  could  supply  so  many 
ensamples  of  the  cream  of  tartars  and  the  flowers  of  brimstone. 

There  was  another  reason  why  this  gentleman  was  so  success 
ful  in  winning  the  hearts  of  ladies.  He  believed  in  falling  from 
grace,  and  had  had  several  slides  in  company  with  young  ladies, 
just  as  he  was  about  reaching  the  pinnacle  of  perfectibility. 


BROTHER  SOFTAKDSWEET.  357 

These  inadvertencies  were  usually  rubbed  out  by  a  rustication  ia 
the  provinces,  where  the  black  art  of  printing  was  little  known. 
Here,  he  would  turn  up  in  coarse  clothing  at  a  feast  of  taberna 
cles,  where  his  humility -was  extremely  winning.  It  was  not 
without  difficulty  the  stranger-brother,  who  had  first  made  him 
self  known  in  the  prayer-meeting  or  conference-tent,  could  be 
prevailed  upon  to  mount  the  stand.  And,  at  first,  he  only  ven 
tured  upon  a  brief  exhortation.  It  was  enough.  "  Who  is  this 
brother  ?  "  was  then  the  inquiry  of  all  who  heard  him.  With 
great  reluctance  he  preached  a  sermon,  and  then  another,  and 
another,  until  he  felt  himself  fairly  mounted  and  in  the  saddle. 
Once  there,  he  rode  the  ministry  after  the  manner  of  the  Old 
Man  of  the  Mountain  the  unfortunate  Sinbad  the  Sailor.  They 
had  insisted  on  his  getting  into  the  saddle,  and  then  the  spurs 
were  in  their  flanks  in  an  instant. 

He  made  the  old  fathers  feel  they  were  not  only  outshone,  but 
that  they  had  changed  places  entirely  with  the  people  whom 
they  came  to  exhort  and  denounce  for  their  short-coinings.  It 
was  they  themselves  who  were  being  done  for.  Brother  Soft- 
andsweet  did  not  scruple  to  call  them  "  dead  weights ;"  and  if 
they  held  back  in  doing  his  bidding,  he  lighted  down  from  the 
pulpit,  before  all  the  congregation,  his  denunciations.  "  Curse 
ye  Meroz !  Curse  ye  bitterly  the  inhabitants  thereof,  because 
they  came  not  to  the  help  of  the  Lord,  to  the  help  of  the  Lord 
against  the  mighty."  He  had,  too,  a  famous  sermon  from  the 
text  "  Mene,  mene,  tekel,upharsin,"  which  left  no  one  at  loss  how 
it  was  applied,  nor  as  to  those  who  being  weighed  were  found 
wanting.  Sober-minded  brethren  were  astounded.  And,  when 
the  feast  was  over,  he  never  failed  to  have  secured  an  invitation 


358  MODERN  PILGKIMS. 

from  some  weak  brother,  or  strong-minded  sister,  to  make  a  visit 
to  the  principal  village,  town,  or  city,  where  he  never  failed  at  once 
to  "  get  up  a  revival."  The  minister  of  the  church  might  be  ever 
so  averse,  ever  so  clear-sighted  as  to  consequences ;  he  was  com 
pelled  to  turn  volunteer ;  and  if  there  were  deacons  and  others 
who  were  not  to  be  dragooned,  he  raised  a  hornet's  nest  about 
their  ears.  From  the  very  pulpits  they  had  erected,  in  churches 
they  had  built,  in  presence  of  people  who  had  been  accustomed 
to  recognize  them  as  "  members  of  standing  and  influence,"  they 
heard  themselves  published  the  "  Achans  in  the  camp,"  "  dumb  dogs 
loving  to  slumber."  They  were  usually  compelled  to  silence  by 
the  wonderful  conversions  that  followed  Brother  Softandsweet's 
labors  ;  and  comforted  themselves  with  the  good  done,  though  the 
hundreds  now  slain,  as  of  old,  were  slain  by  the  jaw-bone  of  an  ass. 
But  it  was  hard,  very  hard,  for  such  men  to  find  themselves  no 
longer  in  advanced  position  and  place,  but  so  many  ciphers  all 
in  a  row  by  themselves.  To  the  young  converts — and  these  were 
counted  by  fifties  and  hundreds  —  all  this  was  delightful.  They 
were  carried  by  the  preacher's  eloquence  up  to  the  heights  of 
Zion,  and  called  to  look  down  upon  the  Valley  of  Dry  Bones. 
Without  being  able  to  put  their  thoughts  into  expression,  Shak- 
speare  has  fittingly  described  their  feelings  when  Hamlet  says, 

"Let  it  work : 

For  'tis  the  sport  to  have  the  engineer 

Hoist  with  his  own  petard." 

After  enduring  this  buffeting  a  while,  the  brethren  would 
seek  to  know  the  antecedents  of  this  ministering  brother ;  and, 
at  no  great  length  of  time,  letters  full  of  details,  and  fearful 
reasons  for  his  sudden  appearance  among  them  without  creden- 


BROTHER   SOFTANDSWEET.  359 

tials  of  any  sort,  would  be  received.  Now,  for  this  Brother 
Softandswect  was  well  prepared.  He  knew  the  sequences  likely 
to  happen.  And  when  the  "  brethren"  began  to  be  seen  whispering 
to  each  other  about  the  meeting-house  steps,  or  Sister  Lovemind 
wore  a  dejected  air,  and  wept  during  sermon-time,  and  such-like 
infallible  signs  were  visible,  then  Brother  Softandsweet  felt  it 
was  time  to  unmask  his  batteries.  This  he  did  the  next  time  he 
ascended  the  pulpit,  and  his  usual  text  upon  such  occasions  was 
this  :  "I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course, 
and  I  am  ready  to  be  offered  up."  He  then  bravely  told  the 
story  they  had  gone  so  far  to  get ;  and  it  was  never  stinted  in 
the  narration,  but  heightened  and  exaggerated  in  all  its  details. 
And  then  the  way  he  prayed  for  his  persecutors,  the  delicate 
allusions  he  made  to  Paul,  showed  to  all  present  that  he,  too,  was 
not  a  whit  behind  the  chiefest  of  the  apostles. 

Then  came  the  tears  of  sorrow  to  leave  those  for  whom  he  was 
ready  to  die.  In  all  this  the  tones  were  rich  with  heavenly  unc 
tion  ;  and  tones  and  tears  were  there  which  required  not  only 
great  dramatic  skill,  but  a  brow  of  brass  and  a  heart  of  adamant. 
In  all  these  this  brother  was  perfect.  The  heads  of  the  meeting 
found  themselves  tasked  on  all  hands  as  calumniators,  the  cam 
brics  of  the  young  ladies  were  wet  to  saturation ;  and,  had 
Brother  Softandsweet  taken  to  the  stage  instead  of  the  pulpit,  such 
success  would  have  been  described  in  the  morning  papers  as 
"  deluging  the  theatre,  filling  the  pit  with  tears,  and  compelling 
the  musicians  to  climb  upon  the  stage  to  escape  being  drowned."  ( 

It  was  a  never-failing  triumph  to  the  "  ministering  brother," 
who  agreed  to  capitulate,  and  was  bought  off  by  letters  of  some 
sort  to  a  distant  conference,  where  new  triumphs  awaited  him. 


860  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

At  the  time  of  the  visit  of  our  party,  he  had  risen  on  the 
crest  of  a  wave  of  triumph,  which  bore  him  back  once  more 
upon  the  city  of  Vanity  Fair.  He  had  reiippeared  not  as  a  peni 
tent,  but  as  an  overruling  elder,  ready  to  compel  submission  from 
all  who  had  once  denounced  him,  and  who  now  feared  being 
extinguished  in  the  glories  of  his  superior  light. 

Are  any  of  our  readers  weary  of  this  long  digression  ?  Let 
them  be  glad  they  have  had  it  to  read,  rather  than  to  hear 
the  sermon  preached  on  this  evening ;  for  it  was  so  ordered 
our  pilgrims  and  everybody  were  doomed  to  be  disappointed. 
Brother  Softandsweet  did  n't  preach  ! 

No  !  he  did  not  preach.  The  congregation  had  been  very 
piously  inclined,  the  hymns  had  been  sung  with  a  glorious  power 
of  song,  old  Brother  Crusty's  prayer  had  been  responded  to  by 
any  amount  of  interpolations,  and  emendations,  and  amens ;  and 
all  because  Brother  Softandsweet  was  to  preach ! 

But  when  the  sermon  was  to  be  delivered,  the  orator  came  for 
ward,  and  in  tones  of  touching  tenderness  announced  to  them  the 
pleasure  which  the  arrival  of  dear  Brother  Sliceum  gave  him, 
inasmuch  as  it  afforded  him  the  opportunity  of  showing  to  him 
and  to  them  his  high  appreciation  of  the  "  Old  War-horse." 
This  sobriquet  was  worn  by  the  reverend  gentleman  as  a  pecu 
liar  title  of  honor.  Having  been  thus  introduced,  the  "  Old  War- 
horse  "  came  forward  to  the  pulpit  and  opened  the  Bible.  His 
figure  was  full,  shoulders  square;  a  broad  chest,  and  a  face 
flushed,  like  a  gladiator's  just  come  from  the  slaughter  of 
victims  in  a  Roman  amphitheatre.  He  presented  the  strongest 
possible  contrast  to  the  finical,  petit-maitre  grace  of  Brother 
Softandsweet,  whose  voice  was  more  than  usually  feminine  and 
refined  on  this  occasion. 


THE   REV.    MR.    SLICEUM'S   SERMON.  361 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 

THE    CAMP   BY   MOONLIGHT. 

THE  sermon  being  over,  singing  and  exhortations  now  com 
menced,  and  the  mourners  began  to  be  led  up  into  the  pen.  Our 
ladies  rose  and  walked  up  to  seats  vacated,  where  their  husbands 
came  to  them,  and  were  gladly  welcomed.  After  sitting  a  while, 
and  seeing  the  way  the  religious  sentiment  was  developed,  until 
they  were  well  satisfied  that  the  longer  they  remained  the  less 
of  pleasure  and  edification  they  would  gain,  they  rose  and  went 
to  their  tent.  A  very  nice  tent  it  was,  with  a  carpet  spread  over 
the  grass,  two  comfortable  beds  in  it,  chairs,  a  table,  washstands, 
and  the  candles  burning.  The  servant  in  charge,  having  re 
ceived  permission  of  our  ladies,  retired ;  and,  as  neither  Lady 
Di.  nor  Mrs.  Proudfit  were  yet  come  to  the  tent,  our  gentlemen 
entered  with  their  ladies,  and  they  talked  over  the  sermon  and 
the  scenes  of  the  camp-ground. 

Frank  said :  "It  is  all  idle  to  limit  the  expression  of  reli 
gious  sentiment ;  that  depends  on  culture.  What  offends  one 
mind  delights  another,  in  religion,  as  in  all  things  else.  How 
can  we  say  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Sliceum's  sermon  and  sayings  this 
night  may  not  have  been,  all  things  considered,  the  best  that 
could  have  been  delivered !  To  us,  he  was  sometimes  vulgar, 
sometimes  irreverent,  and  little  likely  to  do  us  good ;  but  it  may 
be  the  very  means  to  do  good  to  others." 

"  Well,  Frank,  I  am  not  particularly  bright  just  now,"  said 
Annie,  "  inasmuch  as  I  want  to  lay  head  upon  my  pillow  J  but 
31 


362  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

I  will  say  this :  if  Brother  Sliceum  was  in  his  proper  place,  we 
were  not  in  ours." 

Wishing  their  wives  sweet  sleep,  they  left  the  tent.  It  was 
now  near  eleven  o'clock.  The  moon  was  riding  high  in  the 
heavens,  careering  through  waves  of  little  clouds,  which  hardly 
dimmed  its  beauty  and  brightness.  The  gentle  breeze  was 
delicious.  As  they  passed  along,  they  saw  the  congregation  had 
dispersed,  though  some  hundreds  were  still  gathered  around  the 
minister's  stand  and  pen,  singing  in  chorus  most  animating 
hymns.  They  went  to  their  general  tent,  and  found  Lord  D. 
and  lady,  Col.  P.  and  lady,  and  some  younger  members  of  their 
company,  eating  a  cold  supper.  They  declined  partaking ;  would 
neither  eat  nor  drink,  though  kindly  urged.  Lady  Di.  and  Mrs 
P.  proposed  a  stroll  by  moonlight,  and  all  rose  to  go,  when  Lord 
D.  and  Col.  P.  said  :  "  Our  company  is  not  needed.  Ladies,  as 
you  are  very  well  paired,  we  will  remain  and  smoke  a  cigar." 

To  this  there  was  no  objection  made  by  their  wives  ;  and,  of 
course,  none  could  be  suggested  by  any  one  else.  Tom  T'nip- 
nose  and  Harry  Gulphin,  and  other  beaux  and  their  young-lady 
friends,  set  out  to  reach  the  open  ground  on  the  summit,  where 
the  scenery  could  be  viewed  to  the  best  advantage.  The  few 
glimmering  lamps  hanging  in  the  trees  showed  the  hour  for 
retiring  had  come.  At  the  minister's  stand  lights  had  been 
renewed,  and  all  was  life  and  enthusiasm. 

After  lingering  around  the  camp,  listening  to  the  choruses, 
Lady  Di.  led  the  way  higher  up,  saying,  "  We  shall  be  able  to 
look  down  upon  the  camp,  and  sweep  the  horizon  over  the 
trees." 

When  the  summit  was  reached  the  party  had  been  scattered, 


NIGHT-SCENES   AT   A   CAMP.  SG3 

and  only  Lady  Di.  and  Mrs.  P.  and  our  gentlemen  remained 
together.  There  was  a  ledge  of  rocks  which  made  a  nice  seat 
in  the  moonlight,  and  a  little  thicket  of  bushes  grew  behind 
them.  They  could  just  hear  the  choruses,  when,  hushed  to 
silence,  they  sat  listening.  Lady  Di.  leaned  her  head  on  Oliver's 
shoulder,  "  to  help  herself  to  listen,1'  so  she  said ;  and  Mrs. 
Proudfit  took  off  a  veil  from  her  head  and  let  down  her  hair, 
which  was  exceedingly  luxuriant,  to  replace  it  more  conveniently 
Frank  ran  his  fingers  through  it,  "  it  was  so  beautiful,"  and  she 
was  pleased  that  her  feint  had  been  successful.  She  knew 
Frank  admired  her  hair.  As  all  this  was  being  done,  they 
heard  a  female  voice  cry,  "  Henrietta  !  Hen-ri-etta  !  Brother 
Soft-and-sweet !  "  Soon,  steps  were  heard,  and  the  advancing 
persons  stopped  on  the  other  side  of  the  thicket.  A  male  voice 
was  heard  remonstrating  with  the  female,  and  they  came  to  the 
very  point  behind  which  Lady  D.  and  her  party  were  sitting, 
screened  from  view. 

"  Wife,"  said  the  man,  "  you  are  mad  !  You  are  jeoparding 
the  reputation  of  your  daughter  and  a  minister." 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  the  wife  ;  "  he  shan't  ruin  my  daughter  ! 
Henrietta  !  Hen-ri-etta  !  " 

"  Be  silent,  wife  !  "  and  instantly  they  heard  Tom  T'nipnose 
and  Harry  Gulphin  mimicking  her  voice  in  the  distance.  "  Hen- 
ri-etta  !  Brother  Soft-and-sweet !  "  Then,  in  their  natural  voice 
they  heard  them  cry,  "  Come  out  of  your  hiding-place,  you  old 
fox  !  Bring  out  the  girl !  " 

"  Heavens  !  "  cried  the  mother  ;  "  what  can  that  mean  ?  " 
and  then  Tom's  voice,  imitating,  again  was  heard.  "  Hen-ri- 
etta  !  Brother  Soft-and-sweet !  "  and  then  an  explosive  laugh 


3G4  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

of  girls  in  their  company  came  up,  doubtless  to  the  infinite 
relief  of  the  parents  of  the  child.  Sobered  and  sad,  these  parents 
returned  towards  the  camp. 

Scarcely  had  they  gone,  when  other  steps  were  heard,  and  a 
girl,  sobbing,  said  :  "  I  will  go  back  !  0,  it  is  very  wicked  in 
you  !  You  told  me  mother  consented  to  my  walking  out  with 
you  !  I  shall  be  ruined  and  disgraced  !  " 

Brother  Softandsweet's  voice  was  heard  soothing  her,  and  say 
ing,  "  Don't  cry,  Henrietta ;  your  mother  shall  suffer  for  this ! 
She  shan't  raise  a  hue  and  cry  at  my  expense  with  impunity  !  " 
and  they  heard  the  girl  break  away  and  run  down  the  hill  in 
pursuit  of  her  parents,  while  Brother  Softandsweet  reiiscended 
the  hill  alone,  to  make  good  an  alibi,  of  which  he  well  knew  the 
advantages. 

This  dialogue  had  its  effect  upon  Oliver  and  Frank.  They 
had  some  reflections  of  their  own,  and  they  proposed  to  return, 
and  rose  to  do  so.  Lady  Di.  asked  Oliver  to  go  up  to  a  rock 
just  beyond,  with  her ;  and  Mrs.  Proudfit  said,  "  Yes,  you  go  ; 
I  have  not  yet  put  up  my  hair."  When  they  were  gone,  she 
said,  as  if  playfully,  "  Let 's  leave  them  to  find  their  way  home 
alone." 

Not  a  step  would  Frank  take,  and  Mrs.  Proudfit  became 
imperious  in  her  tone.  Frank  said  :  "  I  do  not  leave  Lady  Di. 
and  my  friend  in  this  way  but  with  their  consent,  madam ;  "  and 
he  called  out  "  Oliver !  Oliver  ! "  till  Oliver  came  down  from 
the  rock  with  Lady  Di.,  and  said :  "  Ah !  it  is  well  worth  the  toil 
of  going  up,  the  scenery  is  so  beautiful." 

"  I  think  it  wisest  for  us  all  to  go  back  to  camp,"  said  Frank ; 
and  they  turned  their  steps  downward. 


NIGHT  ADVENTURES.  365 

Mrs.  Proudfit  was  in  a  very  bad  humor,  and  spitefully  declined 
Frank's  aid  and  hand  in  going  through  the  dark  shady  path  they 
now  descended;  so  that  Frank  went  on  alone,  while  Lady  Di., 
on  the  contrary,  could  not  move  a  step  but  as  she  was  upheld  by 
Oliver.  Frank  was  a  little  way  ahead,  when  a  hand  was  placed 
on  his  shoulder,  and  he  heard  a  whisper,  full  of  earnestness  and 
warning,  "  Your  wife  is  in  danger  !  Hasten  to  her  !  "  The  voice 
seemed  that  of  old  Mr.  Conscience ;  but  no  sooner  had  he  made 
his  whisper  than  he  was  gone.  Frank  cried  out  to  Oliver, 
"  Hasten  to  your  wife,  Oliver  !  I  leave  to  your  care  these  ladies ; 
I  go  on  ahead  "  and  he  hastened  down  the  hill,  toward 
their  wives'  tent.  Oliver,  leaving  Lady  Di.  and  Mrs.  P.  at  the 
parlor-tent,  ran  on  to  join  Frank;  for  the  tones  of  Frank's 
voice  had  alarmed  him. 

The  entrance  to  the  tent  occupied  by  Annie  and  Gertrude  they 
found  carefully  closed.  They  called  to  their  wives,  and,  finding 
no  answer,  they  lifted  the  canvas  and  entered.  The  candles  were 
burning,  and  their  wives  lay  asleep.  Gertrude's  golden  hair  lay 
in  tangled  tresses  and  in  beautiful  disorder,  while  Annie  lay  with 
her  face  buried  in  her  pillow. 

Gertrude  awoke  so  soon  as  her  husband  knelt  at  the  bedside 
and  pronounced  her  name.  "Frank!  is  it  you?  0,  I  Ve  had 
so  sweet  a  vision !  We  were  at  the  Jordan  ;  and  it  was  a  silver 
stream,  and  you  insisted  on  bearing  me  over  it  in  your  arms ;  and 
I  thought  your  arms  were  around  me  when  I  awoke  !  " 

While  Gertrude  was  speaking,  Oliver  was  shaking  his  wife,  and 

failed  to  awaken  her.     What  could  be  the  matter  ?     There  was 

a  smell  of  ether.     What  had  she  been  doing  with  ether  ?     Her 

pillow  was  wet  with  it.     And  this  pillow  was  taken  away,  and 

31* 


366  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

another  put  in  its  place.  Slowly  Annie  came  out  of  the  stupor, 
and  complained  of  coldness  in  her  limbs ;  she  said  she  had  had  a 
nightmare,  a  horrid  spell  upon  her.  She  knew  it,  but  could  not 
rouse  herself.  Some  giant  or  fiend  was  breathing  upon  her.  She 
continued  breathing  heavily  for  a  long  time  before  restored  to 
consciousness. 

Frank  said,  "/  shall  stay  here  till  Lady  Di.  comes.  I  shall 
not  leave  my  wife  to  the  security  of  a  pin  again."  He  had  mis 
givings  he  did  not  care  to  speak.  Oliver,  however,  seemed 
oblivious.  They  lay  down  on  the  bed  of  Lady  Di.,  nor  did  they 
awake  till  the  sounding  of  the  horn  calling  to  prayer  was  heard. 
Lady  Di.  sent  servants  to  render  them  any  services,  with  a  mes 
sage  that  Mrs.  P.  and  herself  had  shared  the  tents  assigned  to 
their  husbands,  and,  if  agreeable,  they  would,  each  and  all,  retain 
their  last  night's  arrangement.  These  servants  brought  them 
their  carpet-bags,  and  in  exchange  transferred  Lady  Di.'s  and 
Mrs.  Proudfit's  dressing-cases  and  band-boxes  to  Lord  D.'s  tent. 
A  very  satisfactory  arrangement  it  was,  and  one  which  relieved 
Frank  of  many  unpleasing  thoughts,  and  anticipated  his  purposes 
and  plans. 


OP   FEASTS   OF   TABERNACLES.  367 

CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

SHE    SABBATH. SERMONS     BY     BROTHER     ROUSEALL   AND   BROTHER 

SOFTANDSWEET. 

Ox  going  to  the  "  parlor-tent,"  as  it  was  called  by  the  ladies, 
Lady  Di.  received  them  at  the  door  with  many  kind  inquiries 
after  their  comfort,  and  received  the  thanks  of  Frank  for  the 
exchange  they  had  made  of  tents.  While  they  are  at  breakfast 
we  have  a  few  words  to  say  of  these  gatherings. 

The  Feast  of  Tabernacles  had  its  origin  in  early  days,  when 
the  country  was  sparsely  settled ;  and  at  this  season  of  the  year 
the  inhabitants  of  various  settlements  met  at  a  common  centre  to 
worship  God  and  to  renew  old  friendships,  to  rejoice  in  the 
advance  of  religion,  and  thus  to  enlarge  the  circle  of  their  sym 
pathies  and  friendships.  Nothing  could  be  better  conceived  nor 
more  wisely  executed.  But  these  were  early  days,  before  cities 
and  towns  became  great  and  numerous.  Perpetuating  these 
feasts  in  the  near  neighborhood  of  great  cities,  results  inevitably 
in  the  desecration  of  the  Sabbath.  Nor  is  this  all.  Poor  horses 
are  deprived  of  their  day  of  rest,  and,  instead  of  the  day  being  to 
them  a  mercy,  it  becomes  a  curse ;  for  they  are  often  overbur 
dened  and  rode  out  to  the  camp,  there  to  suffer  thirst  and  the  want 
of  food  in  the  hot  sunshine.  The  cries  of  these  wretched  animals 
for  water  ascend  up  to  heaven  along  with  songs  of  religious  fervor 
from  the  camp  below.  Nor  is  this  all.  If  many  go  to  worship, 
more  go  for  the  pleasure  which  may  chance  to  offer.  Certain  it 
is,  the  outskirts  of  such  camp-grounds  exhibit  the  aspects  of  a 
saturnalia  rather  than  of  a  holy  Sabbath. 


MODERN    PILGRIMS. 


The  crowds  of  travellers  in  gigs,  wagons,  coaches,  and  on  horse 
back,  about  nine  o'clock  began  to  pour  in  from  Vanity  Fair, 
powdered  over  with  dust ;  and  arrivals  continued  during  the  day 
till  nightfall,  when  a  return  home  to  the  city  commenced.  The 
crowd  was  at  its  height  from  noon  to  four  o'clock,  when  it  was 
estimated  there  were  upwards  of  six  thousand  present.  Of  these, 
more  than  half  came  pleasure-seeking ;  and  this  pursuit  was  con 
tinued  by  many  into  the  silence  of  night.  But  we  will  now  speak 
of  what  came  under  the  cognizance  of  our  pilgrims. 

By  going  early  they  secured  seats  favorable  for  witnessing  the 
circle  of  faces  in  the  congregation,  as  well  as  of  the  minister's 
stand.  At  ten  o'clock  the  regular  services  began  by  singing  a 
familiar  hymn  to  a  familiar  tune,  in  which  all  voices  united. 
The  prayer  was  earnest,  eloquent,  and  full  of  heaven-enkindling 
appeals,  which  were  responded  to  on  all  hands,  and  in  every 
variety  of  manifestation.  It  was  offered  by  the  presiding  elder, 
Brother  Rouseall,  an  old  man  of  seventy,  whose  stature  and  frame 
showed  him  to  be  possessed  of  all  the  vigor  of  manhood ;  and  his 
clear,  bell-like,  ringing  voice,  might  have  been  heard  a  mile  off 
in  a  still  night.  He  had  labored  long  among  these  people,  and 
was  regarded  as  a  pillar  of  fire  to  the  Israel  of  God.  His  popu 
larity  had  been  richly  earned,  and  was  worn  with  dignity.  It 
was  a  frank  consciousness  of  his  integrity,  and  claims  to  the 
position  he  held.  While  the  hymn  was  being  sung,  Brother 
Sliceum,  Brother  Crusty,  Brother  Shovelandtongs,  and  Brother 
Rouseall,  had  their  heads  together  for  a  while ;  and  so  earnest 
were  they  that  the  singing  was  over  before  their  confabulation 
ended.  A  feeling  of  dread  expectancy  sat  upon  the  faces  of  all 
this  multitude ;  and  our  pilgrims,  even,  became  anxiously  impa- 


BROTHER  ROUSEALL'S  SERMON.  369 

ticnt  to  see  Brother  Softandsweet  rise  and  open  the  Bible.  But 
not  a  movement  did  he  make.  He  sat  where  all  could  see  him, 
wearing  the  most  benignant  and  beautiful  expression  of  face. 
He  knew  the  entire  audience  were  waiting,  hushed  and  anxious, 
for  his  rising;  and  no  one  sat  with  an  air  of  more  pleased 
courtesy,  waiting  for  the  ending  of  the  confab  of  elders,  than  him 
self.  He  well  knew  the  hearts  of  hundreds  were  beating  lest, 
after  all,  "the  Old  War-horse,"  or  Brother  Shovelandtongs,  should 
supplant  him.  He  had  seen  a  shadow  pass  over  their  faces  as 
Brother  Sliceum  read  the  lesson  for  the  day  out  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  he  was  calmly  and  serenely  watching  the  effect  of  coming 
events.  Brother  Rouseall  (his  name  was  called  for  shortness 
Rossell)  came  forward  himself  and  took  the  stand,  and  cleared 
his  throat  with  the  roar  of  an  old  lion,  glancing  his  eye  — 
flaming  in  its  expression  of  daring,  and  challenging  rebuke  — 
around  the  amphitheatre.  If  our  readers  have  ever  witnessed  a 
sudden  blast  driven  over  the  surface  of  a  sylvan  lake,  and  seen 
how  soon  all  that  was  bright  becomes  dark  and  rough,  they  will 
have  pictured  to  their  minds'  eye  the  change  our  pilgrims  wit 
nessed  ove'r  that  sea  of  upturned  faces. 

Any  one  but  Brother  Houseall  would  have  been  daunted ;  but 
he  was  not  to  be  frightened  upon  his  own  stand.  He  was  not 
beyond  the  reach  of  admiration ;  and  for  long  years,  at  such 
times  as  this,  his  coming  had  been  welcomed  with  lighted  faces, 
full  of  joy  at  seeing  him  standing  up  in  that  place ;  and,  now  that 
he  was  old  and  gray-headed,  he  could  not  endure  being  supplanted 
by  a  sleek,  smooth-spoken  dandy,  who  had  become  the  idol  of  this 
people. 

Brother  Rouseall  had  nothing  at  hand  like  tables  of  stone  to 


370  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

throw  down  upon  the  people  in  his  just  anger ;  but  he  was  sorely 
tempted  to  cast  down  upon  their  heads  an  old  English  heavy  quarto 
Bible,  as  the  next  best  thing  within  his  reach.  lie  contented 
himself,  however,  with  an  extra  clearing  of  his  lion-like  throat ; 
and  any  one  with  half  an  eye  could  see  by  that  what  was  likely 
to  follow. 

"  Try  the  spirits !  Try  the  spirits !  Beloved,  believe  not 
every  spirit,  but  try  the  spirits  whether  they  be  of  God ;  because 
many  false  prophets  are  gone  out  into  the  world."  The  tones 
in  which  these  words  were  uttered  were  ominous  indeed.  He 
commenced  as  one  who  had  matter  in  hand  which  required  to  be 
handled  without  gloves.  He  made  some  severe  cuts  with  the 
sword  of  the  spirit,  which  were  aimed  at  the  itching  ears  of  some 
people ;  and,  doubtless,  every  blow  told  upon  the  Malchuses  in 
the  crowd.  Then  he  came  clown  upon  the  women, —  their  vanity 
of  mind  manifested  in  their  love  of  novelty  and  fashion,  whether 
it  expressed  itself  in  new  gowns  or  new  preachers ;  and  here 
glances  were  exchanged  on  all  sides,  and  the  only  person  whose 
serenity  was  undisturbed  was  Brother  Softandsweet.  Nothing 
could  reach  the  soul's  calm  sunshine  which  beamed  in  radiance 
from  his  face. 

Brother  Rouseall,  having  poured  out  the  vials  of  his  wrath, 
now  began  to  preach  the  Gospel  with  earnestness,  eloquence,  and 
power.  His  voice  now  thundered  forth  those  stirring  appeals  which 
were  wont  to  secure  the  responsive  groans  of  the  people.  But, 
except  on  the  preacher's  stand,  and  among  some  old  "  brethren" 
not  a  whimper  did  he  get ;  not  a  girl  started  up  to  clap  her 
hands ;  all  sat  cold  as  marble,  as  impalpable  to  his  blows  as  the 
thin  air,  until  his  ability  was  about  being  exhausted,  when  he 


A  NOVEL  EFFECT  OF  YELLOW  FEVER.      371 

made  one  last  grand  charge.  This  he  did  by  hallooing  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  with  its  greatest  exertion  of  power,  catching  his 
breath  at  every  other  word,  for  five  minutes  on  a  stretch,  when 
he  gave  in,  and  gasped  out,  "  I  have  done !  I  see  plainly  I  can  say 
nothing  that  will  move  you  !  Never  mind !  The  yallar  fever  is 
coming  up  the  river.  It  will  soon  be  here,  and  then  you  '11  hol 
lar."  So  saying,  he  sat  down,  and  Brother  Sliceum  dismissed 
the  meeting. 

While  they  stood  witnessing  the  breaking  up  of  this  multitude, 
a  sweet  girl  addressed  our  ladies,  and  said:  "  I  see  you  are 
strangers,  and  I  am  authorized  by  my  parents  to  invite  four 
guests  to  dine  with  us.  Will  you  not  come  with  me  ?  we  have 
made  ample  preparation  in  our  tent."  Frank  thanked  the  young 
lady,  and  was  saying,  "  We  have  a  tent  here,"  when  Annie, 
fearing  he  would  decline,  interposed  and  said,  "  No,  Frank  !  we 
have  no  tent  of  our  own  here ;  and,  if  we  dine  with  Lord  Dielin- 
cosur,  we  shall  not  be  in  good  time  for  the  afternoon  service ;  and 
I,  for  one,  accept  this  very  kind  invitation.  Let  us  all  spend  this 
day  as  it  ought  to  be  spent."  And  Annie's  wishes,  as  usual, 
prevailed. 

A  very  highly  respectable  gentleman  came  up,  and  was  pre 
sented  by  his  daughter  as  her  father,  Mr.  Thomas  Harper,  who 
was  introduced  to  each  of  the  pilgrims  by  name,  and  then  he 
presented  his  daughter,  Ellen  Harper.  All  this  took  a  little 
time,  and  when  over,  the  father  led  the  way  to  his  tent. 
Here  they  were  welcomed  by  a  nice,  matronly  lady,  who 
presented  to  them  her  daughter  Henrietta,  a  lovely  girl  of  seven 
teen.  Soon  the  tent,  which  was  spacious,  was  entered  by  Brother 
Rouseall,  Brother  Sliceum,  and  Brother  Crusty.  Brother  Rouseall 


872  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

was  utterly  exhausted,  and  the  other  brethren  were  evidently 
depressed,  and  sympathized  with  him  in  his  labors,  and  their  un 
toward  results.  Brother  Rouseall  drank  goblet  after  goblet  of 
ice-water,  and  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  temples,  as  if  in  pain. 

The  dinner  was  served,  and,  a  blessing  being  asked  by  Brother 
Crusty,  they  sat  down  to  a  cold  dinner,  with  a  cup  of  hot  coffee. 
"  A  very  good  Sunday  dinner !  "  said  Brother  '  Ilouseall,  and 
this  led  to  talking  about  matters  innocent  in  themselves,  but  not 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  what  was  in  all  hearts,  the  base  ingrati 
tude  of  the  people  to  their  presiding  elder. 

After  the  table  was  cleared  away,  Oliver  and  Frank  walked 
out,  leaving  their  wives  with  Mrs.  Harper  and  her  daughters,  in 
one  end  of  the  tent,  where  the  pallets  lay.  These  Mrs.  Harper 
proposed  should  now  be  used  in  place  of  divans ;  accordingly  the 
daughters  and  Annie  and  Gertrude  did  so  use  them,  and,  reclining, 
they  talked  with  these  young  ladies,  while  the  ministers  and  sister 
Harper  sat  in  a  circle  close  together,  talking  confidentially,  at  tho 
other  end  of  the  tent.  The  question  under  discussion  among 
them  was,  who  should  preach  in  the  evening.  Brother  Sliceum 
said  he  must  be  excused ;  Brother  Crusty  said  he  did  n't  believe 
it  would  be  safe  to  disappoint  the  people  ;  they  had  come  out  to 
hear  Brother  Softandsweet,  and  if  he  did  not  preach  he  feared  a 
disturbance.  Mrs.  Harper  said  something  not  at  all  pertinent, 
perhaps,  but  it  came  out  of  the  depths  of  her  heart,  that  she  be 
lieved  some  people  were  "  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing."  Whether 
it  was  to  the  point  or  not,  it  was  a  remark  to  which  nobody 
responded.  The  presiding  elder  confessed  that  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  had  been  forsaken  by  this  people ;  and  it  was  finally 
agreed  on  that  Brother  Softandsweet  should  occupy  the  stand  for 


SCENE   IN   THE   AMPHITHEATRE.  373 

the  afternoon  and  evening.  It  was  hard  for  conscientious  men 
to  consent  that  the  work  of  the  Lord  should  be  left  in  such  hands ; 
but,  as  Brother  Crusty  observed,  they  would  listen  to  the  Gospel 
from  no  one  but  this  stranger,  of  whom  they  both  knew  too  little 
and  too  much;  but,  added  Brother  Crusty,  "  The  diamond  is  not 
changed ;  it  loses  nothing  of  its  worth  and  beauty,  though  brought 
to  us  in  a  brazen  casket."  How  excessively  impertinent  the  most 
pertinent  sayings  sometimes  are  !  So  too  thought  old  Brother 
Rouseall. 

The  mother  came  up  to  our  ladies  and  her  girls,  and  said, 
"  Henrietta,  Brother  Softandsweet  is  to  preach,  and  we  will  stay 
in  our  tent.  I  think  we  have  heard  enough  from  him."  The 
girl  blushed  deeply,  and  made  no  reply.  As  our  ladies  had  never 
heard  him,  and  were  anxious  to  do  so,  they  took  Ellen  Harper 
with  them,  and,  on  leaving,  accepted  Mrs.  Harper's  invitation  to 
take  tea  with  her. 

The  afternoon  was  overcast  by  clouds,  and  a  pure,  fresh  breeze 
made  the  crowded  amphitheatre  pleasant.  Our  ladies  had 
regained  their  seats,  and  found  Oliver  and  Frank  awaiting  them. 
The  audience  had  increased  greatly  upon  the  morning,  and  every 
spot  was  occupied  long  before  the  service  began. 

A  venerable  old  man  came  forward  to  give  out  the  hymn,  and 
a  shadow  passed  over  the  faces  of  the  assembly.  The  "  Old  War- 
horse  "  and  Brother  Rouseall  sat  in  their  places,  looking  very 
solemn.  The  elder  cleared  his  throat  twice  in  a  most  portentous 
manner.  As  for  Brother  Softandsweet,  he  sat  meekly  in  the  rear 
of  all,  as  if  it  was  no  concern  of  his  who  read  the  Scriptures,  or 
who  preached  the  sermon.  And,  though  Brother  Bouseall  made 
a  very  powerful  prayer,  the  people  maintained  a  cold  and  respect- 
32 


374  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

ful  state  of  sufferance,  unchanged  throughout  the  prayer,  and  the 
singing  of  the  hymn  before  the  sermon.  This,  too,  was  ended ; 
and  the  stand  showed  fifty  ministers  all  sitting  upon  the  seats,  in 
evident  dubiety  as  to  who  was  to  preach.  After  a  moment's 
pause,  Brother  Softandsweet  rose,  with  an  air  of  the  deepest 
humility,  bowing  lowly  and  gracefully  to  all  the  ministering 
brethren  whom  he  passed,  and  with  especial  lowliness  to  the  seat 
occupied  by  the  senior  brethren.  His  coming  forward  with  a 
sweet  smile  to  the  stand,  and  opening  the  Bible,  changed  the 
aspect  of  the  audience  from  anxiety  into  joy;  all  breathed  freer 
and  deeper ;  and  it  was  as  if  a  deep  shadow  had  been  suddenly 
lifted  from  off  a  field  of  golden  grain. 

The  brother  began  with  the  most  winning  tones.  "  I  come," 
said  he,  "  an  humble  gleaner  where  the  golden  harvest  has  been 
gathered;"  and  so  he  went  on  complimenting  the  brethren  who 
had  preached  during  the  Feast,  till  it  became  questionable  with 
some  whether  he  was  not  hiding  under  all  this  his  stinging 
satire ;  but,  if  this  part  of  his  sermon  was  doubtful,  it  was  the 
only  portion  of  his  discourse  which  needed  any  one  to  solve  his 
meaning.  His  text  was,  "  '  And  they  all  began  to  make  ex 
cuse,' —  all  at  once!"  said  the  preacher;  "that  is  to  say,  so 
eager  to  be  excused  that  they  all  spake  at  once."  It  was,  indeed, 
a  most  ingenious  discourse ;  the  pictures  weje  drawn  by  a  mas 
ter's  hand,  and  his  imaginary  dialogues  were  piquant,  lively,  and 
sometimes  amusing,  requiring  the  sternest  looks  and  the  loudest 
hems!  from  the  minister's  stand  to  preserve  all  due  gravity. 
But  there  was  no  wish  manifested  by  the  minister  to  incite 
mirth;  his  style  was  graphic,  and  his  language  natural  as  a 
child's  talk;  and  there  lay  "  the  hidings  of  his  power."  There 


BROTHER  SOFTANDSWEET'S  SERMON.  375 

was  one  class  of  excuses  which,  like  the  back-handed  stroke  of  a 
double-edged  sword,  lighted  down  upon  the  brethren  behind  him, 
and  did  fearful  execution.  It  was  when  the  people  were  making 
their  excuses  arising  out  of  the  unfit-ness  of  ministers ;  their 
ignorance,  rude  vulgarity,  leaden-headed  dulness,  and  the  disso 
nance  they  created  when,  instead  of  blowing,  full  and  clear,  the 
soul-stirring  trumpet  of  the  Gospel,  the  blast  they  designed  should 
strike  terror  into  the  hearts  of  sleeping  saints  and  slumbering 
sinners  roused  them,  to  be  sure,  but  to  the  belief  that  they  heard 
nothing  else  than  the  braying  of  an  ass.  This  climax,  being 
carefully  conducted,  was  greatly  enhanced  by  his  manner,  so 
that  it  was  hard  for  his  hearers  to  restrain  a  smile ;  indeed,  he 
opened  the  mouths  of  one  half  this  multitude,  so  that  every  tooth 
could  have  been  counted,  if  required.  And,  having  now  drawn 
the  sword  of  the  spirit,  he  threw  away  the  scabbard,  and  he  cut 
down  the  old  veterans  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  mullein-stalks. 
Here  he  rose  to  the  height  of  his  power,  and  it  was  hard  for  him 
to  get  his  sword  down  among  his  hearers.  But  he  did  so  with 
wonderful  skill,  and,  instead  of  the  unpitying  sarcasm  he  had 
just  shown,  now  came  tones  of  touching  pathos.  He  wept  over 
these  Jerusalem  sinners  ;  and  the  fountains  which  had  been  frozen 
while  Brother  Rouseall  was  preaching  melted,  and  soon  a  tem 
pest  of  passion  pervaded  the  multitude.  The  anxious  began  to 
jump  up  in  ecstasy,  and  were  almost  carried  down  to  the  pen ; 
and,  as  he  closed,  Brother  Softandsweet,  who,  in  aid  of  all  his 
wonderful  powers,  had  a  fine  voice,  began  to  sing,  "  Come,  ye 
sinners,  poor  and  needy;"  and  the  anxious  came  down,  heaps 
upon  heaps,  into  the  pen,  and  the  brethren  were  invited  to  see 
to  them,  while  the  assembly,  being  appropriately  dismissed,  went 


876  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

to  tea.  Brother  Softandsweet,  before  he  left  the  stand,  announced 
that  "  he  should,  by  urgent  request  of  the  presiding  elder,  preach 
at  candle-lighting." 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 

THE    CAMP   AT   NIGHT. BROTHER   SOFTANDSWEET    TRIUMPHANT. 

OUR  pilgrims  all  returned  to  the  tent  of  Mr.  Harper,  with 
Ellen,  to  tea.  Brethren  Rouseall,  Sliceum,  and  Crusty,  were 
sitting  in  sad  silence  as  they  entered.  The  tea  was  drank  with 
out  a  word  being  spoken  by  either  of  the  preachers.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Harper,  Henrietta  and  Ellen,  and  our  friends,  strove  to 
converse,  but  it  was  a  hopeless  effort ;  and,  supper  being  com 
pleted,  *the  pent-up  heart  of  old  Brother  Rouseall  broke  forth. 
Addressing  himself  to  Brother  Sliceum,  he  said,  "  I  don't  know 
what  you  have  to  say,  brethren ;  but,  for  myself,  I  feel  I  am  an 
extinct  volcano  !  "  They  made  not  a  word  of  reply.  "  Let  us 
pray !  "  said  the  old  man,  who  knelt,  and  with  divine  fervor  and 
a  burning  eloquence  he  poured  out  his  whole  soul,  praying  for 
the  blessing*  of  God  upon  the  labors  of  ministers  at  this  Feast  of 
Tabernacles,  and  for  the  conversion  of  souls.  "  Send  by  whom 
thou  wilt  send,  0  Lord !  but  let  thy  kingdom  come,  and  make 
us  glad  by  thy  stately  stoppings  in  our  midst."  It  was  the  cry 
of  a'  true  heart,  and  it  brought  down  serenity  and  submission  to 
all  hearts  within  the  tent. 


THE   CAMP   IS   BROKEN   UP.  877 

The  congregation  was,  if  it  were  possible,  greater  in  the 
evening  than  in  the  afternoon ;  and  Brother  Softandsweet  was  in 
full  force.  He  had  revenged  himself  upon  his  enemies,  and  now 
he  determined  to  show  them  how  he  could  "  come  it "  over  sin 
ners.  And,  indeed,  such  were  the  exhibitions  of  penitence,  such 
the  shouts  of  joy,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  raise  a  whirl 
wind  of  passion  at  will.  The  congregation  was  moved  in  all  its 
parts,  and  confusion  ruled  supreme. 

With  hearts  beating  with  fright,  our  ladies,  under  the  escort 
of  their  husbands,  hastened  up  to  the  summit  of  the  hill,  where 
the  songs  and  cries  of  the  camp  were  all  mingled  strangely 
together.  They  sat  down  in  the  moonlight  to  enjoy  the  serenity 
of  the  heavens  above,  in  contrast  with  tumult  below.  Nor  were 
they  alone  in  seeking  these  heights.  Numbers  of  promenaders 
were  to  be  seen  in  all  directions.  Our  pilgrims  would  not  go  to 
the  parlor-tent,  because  they  purposed  to  fulfil  the  wish  ex 
pressed  by  Annie,  "  To  spend  this  day  as  a  Sabbath  should  be 
spent."  Near  to  midnight  they  sought  their  pillows,  and  soon 
fell  soundly  asleep.  When  the  day  broke,  they  heard  the  horn 
sounding  for  morning  prayer-meeting.  This  being  the  last 
assembly,  they  rose  and  attended  it.  The  last  prayer  was 
offered,  and  the  last  doxology  sung,  when  all  present  separated 
to  return  to  their  several  homes ;  some  to  begin  in  good  earnest  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City,  and  others  to  go  back  to  Vanity 
Fair,  intending  to  come  out  again  next  year. 

At  the  hour  of  breakfast,  our  pilgrims  made  their  appearance 

at  the  tent  of  Lord  D.  and  his  party.     An  air  of  restraint  was 

visible  at  first ;    but  when  Annie  gave  the   reasons  for   their 

absence,  saying  "  they  had  sought  for  the  opportunity  of  know- 

32* 


378  MODERN    PILGKIMS. 

ing  these  good  people  in  their  own  tents,"  Lady  Di.,  glad  to  be 
relieved  from  her  apprehensions,  accepted  their  apology ;  and, 
before  breakfast  was  over,  Lady  Di.,  Mrs.  Proudfit,  and  their 
gentlemen,  were  at  their  ease,  and  ready  to  unite  with  the 
younger  members  of  the  party  in  the  frolic  of  packing  up  for  a 
return  to  Belle vue. 

Three  of  the  young  ladies,  and  Tom  T'nipnose,  professed  to 
be  under  a  concern  of  some  sort,  which  justified  them  in  waiting 
upon  Brother  Softandsweet.  They  were  greatly  surprised  to 
learn,  as  they  did,  that  Mrs.  Proudfit  had  been  beTore  them  ;  for 
she  had  made  a  call  upon  him  before  breakfast.  They  sought  to 
induce  her  to  speak  of  Brother  Softandsweet ;  but  not  the  slight 
est  indication  did  she  give  that  she  had  ever  seen  him,  or  had 
any  interest  in  the  man  whatever.  And  Tom  told  Frank  of  it. 
"  Ah,  she  is  so  clever  !  but,  then,  nobody  is  so  clever  that  they 
never  are  found  out."  ^ 

Tidings  of  great  joy  awaited  them  at  the  villa.  Letters  re 
ceived  told  them  that  the  French  opera  would  be  in  Vanity  Fair 
for  a  week  only ;  and  the  entire  company  of  guests  agreed  to 
go  to  town  for  the  week.  Our  pilgrims  willingly  went  back  to 
Vanity  Fair,  but  could  not  be  brought  to  promise  to  return  to 
Bellevue.  Indeed,  since  their  visit  to  the  camp-ground,  they 
felt  desirous  once  more  to  set  off  on  their  pilgrimage  to  the 
Celestial  City. 

*  La  Rouchefoucauld  says,  "  We  are  never  so  easily  deceived  as  when 
we  think  we  are  deceiving  others."  —  Maxim  120. 


LORD    SHALLBESO'S    VISIT.  879 

CHAPTER  LXX. 

THEY   RETURN    TO    VANITY   FAIR. TIIE    STATE    OF   PARTIES. 

EVERYTHING  conspired  to  make  the  journey  to  Vanity  Fair 
pleasant.  Delightful  rains  had  settled  the  dust,  and  every  one 
of  the  party  was  in  fine  health.  Lord  Shallbeso  was  one  of  the 
first  to  call  at  the  residence  of  our  pilgrims  to  welcome  them  to 
town.  He  inquired  of  all  that  had  passed  with  his  accustomed 
scrutiny.  Not  a  single  discovery  did  he  make.  They  told  him 
of  their  experience  upon  the  Delectable  Mountains,  as  a  matter 
of  hallucination,  or  some  singular  and  inexplicable  atmospheric 
phenomena,  and  asked  him  for  an  explanation.  My  lord  said  he 
could  not  explain  it  without  the  aid  of  his  philosophical  appar 
atus  ;  and  regretted  he  had  not  known  of  their  going,  for  he 
would  have  himself  supplied  them  with  optic-glasses  suited  to 
their  eyes,  far  better  than  any  Mr.  Burns,  or  other  vendor  of 
like  articles,  could  supply.  They  then  asked  him  as  to  the 
Feast  of  Tabernacles,  which  he  said  was  one  of  the  odd  ways 
some  good  people  had  of  merry-making.  It  was  nothing  but  a 
periodical  excitement,  for  the  most  part ;  though  it  sent  annually 
some  hundreds  on  a  wild-goose  chase  after  a  city  somewhere  in 
the  clouds  :  but,  of  those  who  set  out,  most  returned  to  their  old 
haunts  after-  an  excursion  of  this  sort  of  a  few  months.  He 
thought  it  very  harmless  for  the  class  of  people  who  kept  up 
these  feasts,  but  wondered  no  little  that  Lord  D.  and  his  guests 
could  be  found  there  upon  any  plea,  even  the  love  of  novelty. 
These  feasts,  among  this  class  of  men  and  women,  very  fairly 


380  MODERN   PILGEIMS. 

represented  the  Springs,  the  opera,  or  the  fancy-ball,  in  fash 
ionable  circles ;  they  all  were  manifestations  of  a  love  of 
excitement. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Frank.  "  The  aim  of  one  is  to  create 
a  religious  revival,  to  take  us  into  our  hearts ;  the  other,  too 
often,  leads  us  away  from  ourselves.  In  other  words,  one  is 
objective,  and  the  other  is  subjective." 

Lord  Shallbeso  lifted  up  his  hands  to  his  ears.  "  Don't  say 
another  word  !  I  can  stand  a  great  deal ;  but  I  can't  be  dinned 
to  death  by  such  cant  phrases.  You  have  certainly  been  in  very 
bad  company  !  Pray,  have  you  been  reading  Hegel,  Heine,  Mar- 
heinecke,  Daub,  Strauss,  Newman,  Faxton,  or  taking  lessons  from 
Professor  Yon  Baumgarten  ?  "  My  lord  rose,  took  up  his  hat  to 
go ;  and,  when  all  ready  to  leave,  he  walked  up  to  Frank,  and 
concluded  his  remarks  by  saying,  "  Now,  sir,  if  you  want  to  talk 
to  me  of  the  Real  as  being  something  other  than  the  Apparent, 
oblige  me,  Mr.  Truenian,  by  lifting  yourself  from  the  floor  by 
pulling  at  your  waistbands.  Then  I  shall  have  something  to 
stand  upon,  if  you  have  n't."  And  he  was  bowing  himself  out  of 
the  room,  as  old  men  are  apt  to  do,  having  exploded  a  famous 
remark,  when  Annie  ran  between  him  and  the  door,  and  said, 
"  My  dear  lord,  I  want  to  say  one  word  to  you,  and  it  is  this : 
You  and  I  agree  exactly." 

"  You're  a  sensible  woman  —  sensible  woman!  "  said  the  old 
man. 

"  One  single  inquiry,  my  lord,  and  I  will  let  you  leave  us. 
What  about  this  opera  ?  "  said  Annie. 

"  The  opera  !  the  French  opera  !  Why,  it  is  a  ragged  regi 
ment,  formed  of  all  the  troupes  in  the  country ;  miserable  singers. 


THE   FKENCH    OPERA.  381 

and  worse  women ;  but  just  fit  for  Vanity  Fair  in  the  month  of 
September." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Annie  ;  "  and  why  did  Lord  and  Lady  Dielin- 
coeur  come  to  town  expressly  to  hear  them  ?  " 

"  My  dear  lady,"  replied  the  old  gentlemen,  with  some  embar 
rassment,  "  I  was  not  aware  they  had  returned  for  any  such 
purpose." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  they  did  —  so  far  as  we  know,"  said  Annie. 

"  Ah,  well !  then  I  can  only  say,  like  other  idle  people,  they 
needed  a  change.  This  is  a  nightmare  which  rides  hard  and 
heavily  very  fine  people,  who  have  more  money  and  more  time 
than  they  know  what  to  do  with.  But  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it,  and  really  ought  not  to  interpret  their  actions.  This  is 
a  task  I  do  not  even  assume  for  my  own." 

When  Lord  S.  was  gone,  they  all  tried  to  guess  if  there  was 
any  ground  for  his  remarks ;  and  they  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  party  had  grown  too  wearisome  for  Lord  and  Lady  D. 
to  endure  any  longer ;  and  this  was  the  more  probable,  as  the 
French  opera  had  not  yet  come  to  town  —  so  that  the  opera  was 
only  an  excuse  for  clearing  the  house.  And  they  one  and  all 
held  the  host  and  hostess  justified  in  doing  so ;  at  least,  so  far  as 
they  were  concerned. 

But,  then,  they  were  well  assured  they  had  no  reason  to  believe 
either  Lord  D.  or  Colonel  P.,  or  their  ladies,  were  weary  of  their 
society.  On  the  contrary,  they  were  sought  for  more  constantly 
by  them  than  before;  and  this  became  more  obvious  to  our 
party  when  they  seriously  talked  of  setting  out  once  more  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  Celestial  City.  To  be  sure,  it  was  only  talk 
ing  ;  for  they  were  already  embarrassed  by  their  baggage,  which 


382  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

they  could  not  take  with  them,  nor  could  they  think  of  leaving 
it  behind.  The  new  habits  of  the  gentlemen,  and  elegant  cos 
tumes  of  the  ladies,  were  so  many,  that  they  had  already  become 
a  burden  fit  only  for  horses.  It  was  soon  decided  that,  as  these 
were  too  heavy  to  be  borne  by  themselves,  they  must  be  trans 
ported. 

"I  have  it!"  exclaimed  Frank.  "Let  us  pack  up  all  we 
value  most,  and  take  my  coach  and  team.  How  admirably  it 
works  into  our  plans !  Then,  too,  we  can  take  our  valet  and 
maid  with  us." 

Now,  such  an  idea  would  have  been  scouted  by  them  before 
entering  into  Vanity  Fair.  But  they  had  altered  their  opinions 
about  some  things.  Besides,  they  saw  every  week  better  people 
than  they  were,  more  soundly  orthodox,  and  to  all  appearance 
more  pious  than  themselves,  not  going  in  the  railroad-cars,  to  be 
sure,  nor  in  the  various  lines  of  stages,  but  in  their  own  car 
riages  ;  and  these  persons  made  the  journey  perfectly  well,  and, 
as  they  were  told,  as  certainly  and  safely  in  this  way  as  on  foot. 
In  fact,  this  saying  was  of  universal  acceptation  among  the 
higher  circles  of  pietists  and  pilgrims. 

This  restlessness  of  spirit  in  our  pilgrims  induced  Lord  D. 
and  his  lady  to  be  special  and  earnest  to  divert  their  attention 
from  such  a  purpose.  Nor  was  Mrs.  Proudfit  any  longer  unin 
terested  in  their  doings.  She  found  herself  unoccupied.  Sir 
Henry  Fox,  who  had  succeeded  Sir  John  Villiers,  had  left  the 
country,  and  she  was  now  herself  at  leisure  to  admire  Frank 
Trueman.  With  her  usual  decision  of  character,  no  sooner  was 
this  state  of  mind  made  conscious  to  herself,  than  she  found 
fitting  methods  to  manifest  it  to  him;  who  remained  as  unim- 


STATE   OF   PARTIES.  383 

pressed  as  if  no  such  distinguished  expression  of  her  regard  had 
been  shown  him.  Her  imperiousness  had  been  accustomed  to 
look  down  opposition ;  and  instant  submission  was  to  her 
but  a  natural  and  necessary  acknowledgment  of  her  beauty, 
grace,  and  inimitable  tact.  But  now  all  these  were  powerless. 
Mr.  Trueman  was  preoccupied;  and  preoccupied  by  a  pretty, 
gentle,  loving  creature,  for  whom  Mrs.  Prouclfit  felt  unutterable 
contempt.  How  else  could  she  shield  her  heart  from  the  con 
sciousness  of  the  unlikeness  between  Mrs.  Trueman  and  herself? 

Lady  Di.'s  admiration  of  Oliver  we  have  seen  already  indi 
cated  in  a  very  different  manner.  She  was  all  languor,  incapable 
of  being  interested  by  anybody  or  anything  but  Oliver  only. 
Did  Oliver  propose  to  walk  in  her  sweet  garden, — Lady  Di.  was 
equal  to  any  task.  Did  Oliver  speak  of  a  new  book,  —  he  must 
bring  it  to  her,  and  then  he  must  point  out  the  passages  he 
thought  admirable.  She  became  very  much  interested  in  geology, 
and  bought  a  cabinet  of  minerals  and  fossils,  which  afforded 
Oliver  and  herself  any  amount  of  delightful  occupation  to  put  in 
perfect  order.  In  a  word,  the  coincidence  of  their  tastes  was 
really  wonderful. 

It  may  be  asked,  "What  were  our  ladies  doing  all  this  while  ? 
0  !  well,  it  was  the  fashion  in  Vanity  Fair  to  make  this  sort  of 
exchange ;  they  were  considered  "  fair  business  transactions,"  — 
to  use  a  phrase  familiar  in  Babylon  and  elsewhere,  when  speak 
ing  of  very  dubious  matters  in  trade.  Lord  Dielincoeur  had 
many  ways  of  winning  golden  opinions  from  Annie.  It  was 
obvious  to  Annie  that  he  was  greatly  sought  for  by  ladies,  and 
yet  he  devoted  himself  to  her ;  not  so  obviously  to  others,  per 
haps,  as  to  her  own  consciousness.  In  Annie's  presence  his 


384  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

proud  bearing  was  laid  aside,  and  he  was  the  graceful  gentleman, 
pleased  with  any  expression  of  courtesy  she  conferred.  Colonel 
Proudfit,  as  in  duty  bound,  sought  to  make  himself  useful  to 
Gertrude ;  but  she  met  his  courtesies  with  a  proud  humility. 
This  best  describes  that  air  of  reserve,  combined  with  the  retir 
ing  modesty  of  demeanor,  which  at  no  time  was  ever  less  or 
ever  more  than  she  had  determined  it  should  forever  be.  It  was 
not  possible  for  him  to  get  a  single  expression  of  her  preference ; 
and  in  this  he  shared  in  the  experience  of  his  lady. 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 

THEY   VISIT   A    "  CATHOLIC    REPOSITORY  "    OF   RELICS. 

TAKING  up  a  morning  paper,  Frank  read  aloud  to  Annie  and 
Gertrude,  who  were  sitting  at  the  breakfast-table  gossiping 
a  while  after  breakfast,  the  following  advertisement : 

"  CATHOLIC    REPOSITORY. 

"17  Portman-street,  Portman  Square. 
"  Mr.  Burns  begs  to  intimate  that  he  has  opened  a 
warehouse  for  all  descriptions  of  furniture  for  churches 
and  altars:  crosses,   candlesticks,    ciboriums,   chalices, 
pyxes,  monstrances,    chrismatories,   thurbles,    sacrying 
bells,  altar-cards,  &c.  &c. ;  and  having  entered  into  an  arrange- 


REPOSITORY    OF   RELICS.  385 

ment  with  Mr.  Hardman,  of  Birmingham,  he  will  be  enabled  to 
supply  every  article  the  same  as  at  his  warehouse. 

"  Also  silks  and  stuffs ;  laces  of  various  widths  and  patterns  for 
vestments ;  apparels  for  albs ;  embroidery  for  chasubles,  hoods, 
orphreys  of  copes,  and  frontals  of  altars.  The  whole  designed 
by  Mr.  Pugin,  and  executed  under  his  superintendence. 

"  Sold  in  sheets,  from  drawings  by  the  same,  full-sized  patterns 
for  all  kinds  of  church  embroidery,  such  as  stoles,  maniple?, 
crosses,  orphreys,  apparels,  borders,  and  centres  of  frontals,  ban 
ners,  <fcc.  Price  Is.  6d.  a  sheet.  Nos.  1  to  3  are  ready,  and 
can  be  sent  by  post. 

"  *#*  Vestments,  &c.,  made  up  to  order  with  expedition,  and 
on  the  most  reasonable  terms.  A  supply  of  cassocks,  surplices, 
caps,  collars,  &c.,  constantly  kept,  or  made  to  order  at  the 
shortest  notice. 

"  Mr.  B.  is  also  agent  for  one  of  the  first  makers  of  altar 
candles,  and  can  supply  them  of  all  sizes,  at  2s.  to  2s.  4d. 
per  Ib. 

"  Good  incense  at  2s.  per  Ib.,  in  packets  of  three  pounds ; 
ditto,  superior  quality,  at  5s.  and  6s. ;  very  fine  at  12s."  * 

"  Do  let  us  go  and  see  them,"  said  Annie.  "  We  may  npr- 
haps  find  some  opera-glasses  that  will  suit  our  vision,  should  we 
ever  ascend  the  Delectable  Mountains  again."  And  it  was  agreed 
on  at  once  to  go,  and  to  go  then. 

This  is  one  of  the  advantages  of  idleness,  that,  when  a  novelty 
comes  up,  it  can  be  pursued  without  delay.  Oliver  was  sent  for 

*  The  above  advertisement  is  taken  from  the  London  Times. 
33 


386  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

to  "  come  down  from  his  laboratory  in  the  attic,  for  he  was  wanted 
without  delay ;  "  a  message  rendered  necessary  from  the  entire 
oblivion  he  sometimes  fell  into  when  at  his  studies.  They  found 
the  shop  of  Mr.  Burns  very  remarkable  for  its  outward  symbols, 
and  they  entered  it  with  some  of  the  feelings  of  awe  with  which 
they  would  enter  a  sepulchre,  so  impressive  was  the  getting  up 
of  the  outside  decorations.  As  it  was  early  in  the  day,  the  sales 
men  and  Mr.  Burns  had  little  to  do  but  to  attend  to  their  new 
customers,  who  wanted  nothing  he  could  show  them. 

Frank  took  Mr.  Burns  aside,  and  whispered  into  his  car, 
"Have  you  no  relics,  or  compasses,  or  optic-glasses,,  you  could  show 
us  ?  "  Mr.  Burns  looked  at  Frank  and  his  party  inquiringly. 
His  eyes  rested  on  the  saint-like  beauty  and  serenity  of  Gertrude, 
who  was  leaning  on  Frank's  arm,  and  whose  air  would  at  that 
instant  have  been  a  capital  study  for  a  madonna.  With  this 
scrutiny  Mr.  Burns  was  satisfied.  "  Come  in,  ladies  and  gentle 
men,"  said  he,  leading  them  into  an  inner  room.  "  This  I  call 
my  sanctuary.  It  is  not  usual  for  me  to  exhibit  the  articles  you 
call  for  publicly,  but  to  those  only  of  whose  piety  and  devotion 
to  the  church  I  am  well  assured ;  and  I  read  this  now  in  the 
features  of  your  lovely  ladies."  Here  Mr.  Burns  made  a  low 
bow,  which  was  replied  to  by  curtseys  on  the  part  of  the  ladies, 
and  by  low  bows  from  their  husbands.  With  such  a  hint,  it  was 
very  natural  for  our  pilgrims  to  wear  a  pious  demeanor  befitting 
a  sanctuary ;  and  they  did  so  to  a  charm.  "  Here,"  said  Mr. 
Burns,  "  are  some  Roman  and  Oxford  compasses.  They  are  sold 
for  the  same  sum,  and  the  price  is  moderate.  Nobody  thinks  of 
going  to  the  Celestial  City  now-a-days  without  one ;  and  many 
ladies  prefer  to  have  one  of  each.  These  articles  are  very  deli- 


THE   ROMAN   AND    OXFORD    COMPASSES.  887 

cate,  and  need  to  be  handled  with  care.     They  are  usually  worn 
by  ladies  as  a  locket  in  the  bosom." 

"  Will  you  please  explain  to  us  the  difference  ?  "  asked  Ger 
trude,  who,  as  she  had  been  the  passport  into  the  sanctuary,  was 
put  forward  to  do  the  talking. 

"  With  great  pleasure,  madam.  These  are  manufactured  at 
Rome,  and  these  at  Oxford.  The  zenith  is,  as  you  see,  repre 
sented  upon  the  dial  by  the  name  of  the  city.  Now,  you  see  on 
this  Roman  compass  Augsburg ;  Geneva  and  Oxford  are  placed 
as  the  Tiadir.  Rome  here  stands  alone,  without  associates  ;  but 
in  this  Oxford  compass,  as  you  see,  whik  Oxford  stands  at  the 
zenith,  Rome  is  on  the  right,  Constantinople  on  the  left,  while 
Geneva  and  Augsburg  are  at  the  nadir.  This  compass  allows 
the  traverser  to  roam" — he  smiled  at  his  neat  little  pun, — 
"  when  its  equilibrium  is  disturbed,  between  these  three  centres, 
the  deflection  tends  to  Rome,  very  rarely  to  Coastantinople ;  but, 
in  doing  so,  it  shows  the  scope  of  its  charity.  But  the  Roman 
compass  is  not  affected  by  any  disturbing  influences ;  it  always 
points  to  its  zenith ;  and,  I  think,  for  this  reason,  it  is  coming 
to  be  preferred  to  the  Oxford  compass,  even  by  Oxonians 
themselves." 

"  We  are  exceedingly  obliged  to  you,"  said  Gertrude ;  "  but  I 
don't  think  we  are  in  want  of  compasses.  Have  you  nothing  in 
the  way  of  optic -glasses  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Burns,  putting  up  his  com 
passes,  and  opening  a  box  of  opera-glasses,  which  he  laid  before 
them. 

Our  ladies  and  gentlemen  took  them  up,  and  Mr,  Burns 
opened  one  of  his  leaden  panes,  which  turned  on  a  hinge,  and 


388  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

gave  them  the  sight  of  a  gilded  cross  on  one  of  the  high  church- 
steeples  near  by.  He  requested  them  to  bring  the  glass  to 
bear  upon  that  object.  They  all  did  so,  but  in  vain. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  suit  you,"  said  Mr.  Burns.  "  But  you 
gee,  ladies,  these  are  for  short-sighted  persons,  and  for  those  who 
have  bat's  eyes :  to  such  they  are  invaluable.  To  those  who 
have  been  accustomed  to  the  '  dim  religious  light '  of  cells  and 
cloisters,  or  who  have  been  brought  up  in  Jesuit  colleges  and  in 
convents,  they  are  extremely  useful.  But  you,  ladies,  are 
entirely  too  long-sighted,  —  they  are  not  at  all  suited  to  you." 

Frank  now  spoke  up,  and  asked  "  if  he  had  not  relics  for  sale 
which  he  could  recommend  as  the  genuine  article."  Mr.  Burns 
again  looked  inquiringly  into  the  face  cf  Gertrude,  who  was 
innocent  as  a  dove  of  all  guile ;  and  then  Frank's  manner  was  so 
hearty,  he  must  be  sincere,  thought  Mr.  Burns. 

A  robe  of  velvet,  which  hung  down  as  drapery,  was  now  drawn 
aside,  and  an  article  of  furniture  resembling  an  old-fashioned  chest 
of  drawers,  surmounted  with  a  Christ  on  the  cross,  elegantly 
sculptured,  was  disclosed.  These  drawers  revealed  crucifixes, 
statuettes  of  saints  and  magdalens;  and,  after  these  were 
exhibited,  he  said,  solemnly,  "  I  have  a  few  relics  which  I  know 
are  genuine,  and  I  can  obtain  for  you  any  that  you  may  order ; 
but  I  can't  afford  to  keep  any  but  the  cheapest  on  hand,  they 
are  so  very  costly."  So  saying,  he  opened  a  drawer  which  he 
placed  on  a  table  before  our  pilgrims.  It  was  full  of  little 
caskets  made  of  gold  and  crystal,  containing  a  tooth,  or  a  finger, 
or  a  great  toe,  or  a  lock  of  hair,  with  the  name  of  the  saint  and 
his  era  engraved  on  the  gold  rim.  Those  opened  like  a  snuff- 
box,  and  were  very  pretty  to  look  at.  They  ranged  from  ten 


RELATIVE   VALUE    OF   RELICS.  389 

to  one  hundred  and  fifty  ducats.  "  The  prices,"  said  Mr.  Burns, 
"  are  always  left  in  the  currency  of  Rome,  because  those  who 
purchase  relics  prefer  to  pay  the  price  in  pistolas  and  zecchinos, 
rather  than  in  dollars." 

"  But  where  do  they  get  pistolas  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

"  Ah  !  I  take  bills  of  safety-fund  banks  at  their  par  value;  but, 
then,  you  know  they  pay  in  pistolas,  nevertheless.  For,  I  can  tell 
you,  a  relic  in  dollars  would  lose  the  odor  of  sanctity  at  once, 
and.  therefore  it  is  I  always  charge  in  pistolas  and  zecchinos." 

This  being  satisfactorily  settled,  to  his  own  mind  certainly, 
Mr..  Burns  handed  these  boxes  to  Oliver  and  Frank,  saying, 
"  Won't  you  buy  a  relic?  " 

"  May  I  ask  Mr.  Burns  which  bones  are  most  valuable  ? " 
inquired  Oliver. 

"  Perfect  skulls,"  replied  the  vendor  of  relics,  "  are  most  in 
request.  Next  to  these  are  thigh-bones.  A  perfect  set  consists 
of  a  skull  and  thigh-bones  complete ;  of  the  two,  skulls  bring  the 
highest  price." 

"  Is  it  because  of  their  setting  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

"  O,  no,  sir  !  "  replied  Mr.  Burns.  "  In  a  perfect  skull  there 
is  only  a  golden  wire  needed  to  hinge  the  jaw ;  and  the  gold 
plate  for  the  saint's  name  and  era  is  always  put  on  the  base, 
here,  sir,"  putting  his  finger  on  the  organ  of  philoprogenitiveness. 

"  A  very  small  plate  is  found  to  answer !  "  said  Frank, 
significantly. 

"  Very  small,  indeed,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Burns.  "  The  value  lies 
entirely  in  the  relic  itself." 

"  Do  any  bones  come  into  market  other  than  the  skull  and 
thigh-bones?" 

33* 


390  MODERN    PILGRIMS. 

"  Such  as —     Eh?  "  said  Mr.  Burns,  inquiringly. 

Oliver  replied,  "The  ulna,  femur,  tibia, fibula,  and  pelvis?" 

"  We  have  the  bones  of  the  arm,  and  the  hands,  and  the  thighs, 
and  the  feet ;  but  I  never,  in  all  my  life,  heard  of  a  pelvis  being 
a  relic ;  and  I  doubt  if  such  a  bone  was  ever  inquired  for  before, 
—  never,  sir !  "  Poor  Mr.  Burns  seemed  greatly  disturbed  by 
the  question. 

Gertrude  saw  it,  and  at  once  poured  oil  upon  the  troubled 
surface  of  his  soul,  by  asking  him  if  he  would  not  be  pleased  to 
show  her  the  relic  which  he  deemed  of  all  most  precious. 

With  a  face  instantly  restored  to  its  benignity  of  expression, 
and  with  a  look  of  delightful  certainty  that  he  was  about  to  con 
fer  a  pleasure  where  it  would  be  appreciated,  he  opened  another 
drawer,  and  placed  upon  the  table  a  heavy-mounted  rosewood 
box,  inlaid  with  brass,  on  the  top  plate  of  which  was  engraved 
a  long  inscription  as  to  the  place  in  the  catacombs  out  of 
which  these  relics  were  taken,  and  other  particulars  deemed 
important. 

Before  opening  the  box,  he  addressed  his  audience  with  some 
thing  of  that  solemnity  adopted  by  the  late  eminent  Mr.  Christy 
when  about  to  put  up  at  auction  a  work  of  art,  a  picture  by  an 
old  master,  or  a  vase  sculptured  by  Cellini.  The  effect  was  all 
that  Mr.  Burns  could  have  desired. 

"  I  am  about  to  open  to  your  view  the  casket  containing  relics 
of  St.  Thecla,  of  whom  Cyprian,  Eusebius,  Epiphanius,  Austin, 
Gregory  Nazianzen,  Chrysostom,  and  Severus  Sulpitius,  all  bear 
testimony.  Her  life  was  one  of  miracle  and  romance.  She  was 
the  companion  in  travel  of  Paul  the  apostle.  Her  beauty  was 
angelic,  and  brought  the  great  apostle  into  trouble  many  times ; 


ST.    PAUL  AND   TIIECLA.  391 

and,  indeed,  he  was  complained  of  by  some  for  having  St.  Thecla 
for  a  travelling  companion,  though  we  may  infer  women  were 
quite  as  necessary  to  the  ministry  of  apostles  as  to  the  ministry 
in  our  own  day.  You  will  all  recollect  that  St.  Paul  met  this 
carping  of  evil-minded  persons  by  saying,  « Mine  answer  to  them 
that  examine  me  is  this :  Have  we  not  power  to  eat  and  drink  ? 
Have  we  not  power  to  lead  about  a  sister,  a  wife,  as  well  as 
other  apostles?'^  I  think,  ladies,"  said  Mr.  Burns,  looking 
sweetly  upon  Gertrude.  "  you  will  see  in  this  a  compliment  paid 
by  the  great  apostle  to  the  fair  sex.  You  see  he  classes  their 
company  along  with  the  first  of  necessities,  such  as  eating  and 
drinking.  It  has  always  struck  me  to  be  very  strong  evidence 
of  the  necessity  of  wives  for  priests,  and  for  the  consequent  supe 
rior  purity  of  the  Greek  t  and  our  own  church,  in  this  particular^ 
over  the  Romish  church.  Pardon  my  digression.  And,  to  con 
clude  :  at  last  St.  Thecla  assumed  and  wore  the  garb  of  a  boy, 
to  escape  being  persecuted  on  account  of  her  beauty.  Now, 
there  's  not  a  question  that  all  I  have  told  you  is  true  to  the 
letter."  \ 

*  1st  Corinthians  9  :  5. 

t  The  Emperor  Nicholas,  the  head  of  the  Russian  branch  of  the  Greek 
church,  allows  no  priest  to  be  without  a  wife,  and  no  bishop  to  have  one. 
Alas  for  the  poor  bishops  ! 

t  In  an  old  quarto  volume  of  "  Lives  of  Saints,"  which  I  possess,  bear 
ing  date  1615,  describing  Paul,  the  author  says  :  "  He  was  a  man  litle  of 
body,  and  had  a  hooked  nose,  and  faire  in  the  face  like  an  angel."  Thecla 
is  described  :  **  A  damosel  very  beautiful,  who  desired  rather  to  lose  her 
life  than  her  virginity  !"  Pope  Gelasius  suppressed  the  "Acts  of  Paul 
and  Thecla."  He  "confessed  that  he  did  it  out  of  respect  to  Paul." 
Thecla's  day  on  the  Roman  calendar  is  the  23d  September. 


892  MODERN  PILGRIMS. 

"  I  have  n't  a  doubt  of  it !  "  said  Annie. 

Mr.  Burns  was  delighted  with  the  prompt  endorsement  of  his 
advertisement.  "  I  have  procured  these,  at  a  heavy  expense, 
for  Mrs.  Henry  Gibbs."  And,  so  saying,  he  opened  the  lid, 
and  there  lay  the  thigh-bones  of  this  beautiful  saint,  reversed, 
after  the  manner  of  duelling-pistols. 

Oliver's  love  of  science,  and  of  osteology  in  particular,  was  at 
once  excited,  and  he  put  forth  his  hand  to  take  out  the  bones  and 
examine  them.  Mr.  Burns  gave  a  cry  of  horror,  shut  down  the 
lid  of  the  box  with  a  slam,  and  hurried  it  back  to  its  sacred 
repository ;  and,  when  he  had  done  so,  locked  it  up,  and  put  the 
key  in  his  pocket.  He  was  sadly  ruffled,  and  his  face  was  red  as 
crimson. 

»  Gertrude,  like  an  angel  of  peace  and  gladness,  came  down  with 
an  olive-branch,  while  Oliver  turned  his  back  upon  all  the  trump 
ery  laid  on  the  table  with  a  feeling  of  "  virtuous  indignation." 
Gertrude  held  her  place  with  Frank,  examining  the  relics  most 
respectfully,  and  as  though,  by  her  daintiness  of  touch,  she  was 
turning  over  lizards  and  toads,  —  which  was  in  itself  a  peace- 
offering  to  the  offended  Mr.  Burns. 

She  inquired,  "  There  is  one  question,  Mr.  Burns,  —  if  you  will 
forgive  me  for  tasking  you  so  far,  —  I  would  be  pleased  to  have 
answered,  and  it  is  this :  How  are  these  relics  authenticated  ?  " 

Mr.  Burns  was  tasked  to  reply  with  politeness.  He  feared  he 
had  been  showing  his  precious  pearls  to  a  herd  of  swine ;  but, 
when  Gertrude  spoke,  those  gentle  tones,  soothing  and  persuasive, 
restored  him  to  himself.  He  was  able  to  say,  "  I  have  no  relic 
not  duly  authenticated." 

"  Doubtless,"  replied  Gertrude.     "  I  am  sure  your  love  of 


FINGER   OF  ST.    OMNIA.  393 

truth,  and  your  confidence  in  the  virtues  residing  in  the  smallest 
of  these  fragments  of  what  was  once  the  living  shrine  of  the  holy 
one,  would  induce  you  to  be  thoroughly  assured  of  the  verification 
of  these  relics.  My  question  is,  By  whom  are  they  attested,  and 
in  what  manner  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  madam,"  replied  Mr.  Burns,  now  again  restored 
to  self-possession.  "  I  deal  in  relics  direct  from  the  catacombs, 
and  they  are  authenticated  by  officials,  thereunto  appointed  by 
the  Pope.  Their  fees  cost  more  than  the  gold  you  see  in  the 
settings  and  mountings.  There  are  seven  seals  to  the  parchment 
authenticating  a  skull,  while  but  one  signature  and  seal  is 
required  for  the  lesser  relics.  Shall  I  not  supply  you  with  a 
single  joint  this  morning?  " — handing  Gertrude  a  pretty  box. 

Gertrude  handed  it  to  her  husband,  and,  by  her  look,  said 
"  Buy  it." 

"  That  is  a  little  finger  of  St.  Omnia,"  said  Mr.  Burns.  "  You 
will  see  her  name  and  date  on  the  rim.  Ah,  yes !  it  is 
A.  D.  170." 

"  May  I  rely  on  the  solidity  and  purity  of  the  gold  ?  "  asked 
Frank. 

"  It  is  pure,  veritable  gold,  as  can  be  manufactured,  and  every 
way  worthy  of  the  verity  of  the  relic.  See,  sir !  —  there  is  the 
bullion  stamp,  and  here  is  the  authentication !  " — handing  him  a 
parchment  with  a  seal,  and  signed  by  some  unreadable,  unde 
cipherable  name,  "  Commissarius  Generalise 

Frank,  to  make  some  recompense  for  the  courtesy  of  Mr. 
Burns,  and  to  mollify  his  pain  at  the  strange  irreverence  of 
Oliver,  determined  to  buy  the  relic.  "  What  is  the  cost  ?  "  asked 
Frank. 


394  MODERN   PILGRIMS. 

"  Three  pistolas,"  replied  Mr.  Burns. 

Frank  put  down  —  ignorant  entirely  of  what  a  pistola  was  — 
a  gold  eagle. 

"  Just  the  money !  "  said  Mr.  Burns.* 

With  many  acknowledgments  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Burns,  and 
many  thanks  by  Gertrude  and  Annie  for  his  kindness,  they  all 
took  leave  together. 

"  What  could  induce  you  to  buy  a  relic  ?  "  asked  Oliver. 

"  I  did  n't  buy  the  relic ;  I  bought  a  gold  and  crystal  box," 
said  Frank,  opening  the  lid,  and  letting  the  finger  of  St.  Omnia 
fall  into  the  gutter. 

"  0,  yes  ! "  said  Oliver,  looking  at  the  box,  "  if  all  is  gold 
that  glitters  !  "  ' 

"  You  don't  say  it  is  pinchbeck?  Whether  the  bone  belongs 
to  a  saint  or  not,  the  church  can  only  tell ;  but  selling  pinchbeck 
for  gold  is  to  say  to  all  buyers,  The  church  is  not  only  fallible, 
but  fallen  !  " 

Oliver  scraped  it  with  the  point  of  his  penknife  as  he  walked 
along,  and  pronounced  it  plated  copper.  "  My  dear  Frank,"  said 
Oliver,  "  when  you  buy  relics,  buy  them  separate  from  the  boxes : 
never  buy  golden  boxes  from  the  manufactory  of  holy  relics !  " 

And  this  became  a  sort  of  proverb  with  our  pilgrims,  often 
repeated  at  the  expense  of  Frank,  who  was  actuated  by  the  very 
best  of  motives.  This  is  the  way  of  the  world. 

*  A  pistola  is  three  dollars  and  twenty-five  cents  ;  and  a  zecchino  is 
two  dollars  and  eighteen  cents. 


NOTE. 

WE  have  sacrificed  many  illustrative  notes  to  these  volumes,  but  we 
cannot  consent  to  deny  to  our  readers  the  pleasure  of  the  following  curious 
sermon  of  a  Hardshell  minister,  which  appeared  in  the  Brandon  Missis 
sippi  Register,  preached  July,  1855,  at  a  town  not  far  from  Brandon. 

"  I  may  say  to  you,  my  breethering,  that  I  am  not  an  edecated  man,  an' 
I  am  not  one  o'  them  as  bleeves  that  cdecation  is  necessai-y  fur  a  Gospel 
minister  ;  fur  I  bleeve  the  Lord  edecates  his  preachers  jest  as  he  wants  'em 
to  be  edecated  ;  an',  although  I  say  it  that  ought  n't  to  say  it,  yet  in  the 
State  of  Indianny,  \vhar  I  live,  thai*  's  no  man  as  gits  a  bigger  congrega 
tion  nor  what  I  gits. 

"  Thar  may  be  some  here  to-day,  my  breethering,  as  don't  know  what 
persuasion  I  am  uv.  Well,  I  may  say  to  you,  my  breethering,  that  I  'm  a 
Hardshell  Baptist.  Thar  's  some  folks  as  don't  like  the  Hardshell  Baptists, 
but  I  'd  ruther  hev  a  hard  shell  as  no  shell  at  all.  You  see  me  here  to 
day,  my  breethering,  drest  up  in  fine  close  ;  you  mout  think  I  was  proud, 
but  I  am  not  proud,  my  breethering;  and,  although  I  've  bin  a  preacher  uv 
the  Gospel  fur  twenty  years,  and,  although  I  'm  capting  of  that  flat-boat 
that  lies  at  yure  landing,  I  'm  not  proud,  my  breethering. 

"  I  'm  not  a  gwine  to  tell  you  edzackly  whar  my  tex  may  be  found  ; 
suffice  it  tu  say  it 's  in  the  leds  of  the  Bible,  and  you  '11  find  it  somewhar 
'tween  the  first  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Generations  and  the  last  chapter  of 
the  book  of  Revolutions  ;  an'  ef  you'll  go  an'  sarch  the  Scripture,  as  I 
have  sai*ched  the  Scripturs,  you  '11  not  only  find  my  tex  thar,  but  a  great 
many  other  lexcs  as  will  du  you  good  tu  read;  an'  my  tex,  when  you  shill 
find  it,  you  shill  find  it  to  read  thus  : 

'An'  he  played  on  a  harp  uv  a  thousand  strings  —  sperits  of  just  men  made  perfeck.' 

"  My  tex,  breethering,  leads  me  to  speak  uv  sperit.  Now,  thar  's  a 
great  many  kinds  of  sperits  in  the  world.  In  the  fust  place,  thar  's  the 
sperits  as  sum  folks  call  ghosts,  and  then  thar  's  the  sperits  of  turpentine, 
and  then  thar  's  the  sperits  as  some  folks  call  liquor  —  an'  I  've  got  as  good 
an  artikel  of  them  kind  uv  spirits  on  my  fiat-boat  as  ever  was  fetched 
down  the  Mississippi  river;  but  thar  's  a  great  many  other  kind  of  sperits, 


396  NOTE. 

for  the  tex  sez,  *  He  played  on  a  harp  uv  a  Mow-sand  strings  —  sperits  of 
just  men  made  perfeck.' 

"  But  I  '11  tell  you  the  kind  uv  sperits  as  is  ment  in  the  tex. —  It  'sfire  ! 
That 's  the  kind  of  sperits  as  is  ment  in  the  tex,  my  breethering.  Now, 
thar  's  a  great  many  kinds  of  fire  in  the  world.  In  the  fust  place,  thar  'a 
the  common  sort  uv  fire  you  lite  a  cigar  or  pipe  with  ;  and  then  thar  's 
cam-fire,  fire  before  yure  reddy  and  fall  back,  and  many  other  kinds  uv 
fire  ;  for  the  tex  sez,  '  He  played  on  a  harp  uv  a  Mow-sand  strings  — 
sperits  of  just  men  make  perfeck.' 

"  But  I  '11  tell  you  the  kind  uv  fire  as  is  ment  in  the  tex,  my  breethering. 
—  It's  hell  fire!  an'  that  's  the  kind  uv  fire  as  a  great  many  uv  you  'li 
come  to,  ef  you  don't  do  better  nor  what  you  hev  bin  doin'  ;  for,  '  He 
played  on  a  harp  uv  a  Mo  it-sand  strings  —  sperits  of  just  men  made 
perfeck.' 

"  Now,  the  different  sorts  of  fire  in  the  world  may  be  likened  unto  the 
different  persuasions  of  Christians  in  the  world.  In  the  fust  place,  we  have 
the  Piscapalians  ;  an'  they  are  a  high-sailin'  and  a  hi-falutin  set  ;  and 
they  may  be  likened  unto  a  turkey-buzzard,  that  flies  up  into  the  air,  and 
he  goes  up  and  up,  till  he  looks  no  bigger  than  your  finger-nail,  and  the 
fust  thing  you  know,  he  cums  down  and  down,  and  down  and  down,  and 
is  a  fillin'  himself  on  the  karkiss  of  a  dead  hoss  by  the  side  of  the  road  ; 
and  '  He  played  on  a  harp  uv  a  Mow-sand  strings  —  sperits  of  just  men 
made  perfeck.' 

"And  then  thar 's  the  Methedis  ;  and  they  maybe  likened  unto  the 
squirrel  runnin'  up  into  a  tree  :  for  the  Methedis  believes  in  gwine  on 
from  one  decree  uv  grace  to  another,  and  finally  on  to  perfeckshun  ;  and 
the  squirrel  goes  up  and  up,  and  up  and  up,  and  he  jumps  from  lim'  to 
lim',  and  branch  to  branch,  and  the  fust  thing  you  know,  he  falls  and 
down  he  cums  kei-flummux  ;  and  that 's  like  the  Methedis,  for  they  is 
allers  fillin'  from  grace  —  ah  !  And  — '  He  played  on  a  harp  uv  a  thou 
sand  strings  —  sperits  of  just  men  made  perfecw.*- 

"And  then,  my  breethering,  thar  's  the  Baptist  —  ah  —  and  they  hev  been 
likened  unto  a  possum  on  a  'simion  tree,  and  the  thunders  may  roll,  and 
the  earth  may  quake,  but  that  possum  clings  thar  still  —  ah  !  And  you 
may  shake  one  foot  loose,  and  the  other  's  thar;  and  you  may  shake  all  feet 
loose,  and  he  laps  his  tail  round  the  lim'  and  he  clings  furever  ;  for  — 
*  He  played  on  a  harp  uv  a  Mow-sand  strings  —  sperits  of  just  men  made 
perfeck.'  " 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  priod  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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Berkeley 


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